The Leader's Origin
by Pure Gamer
Summary: When Volkner is faced with a dangerously tempting offer from an obviously dangerous man, after losing those who meant the most to him, he can't refuse. Never did he think that instead of becoming a trainer, he would find another way to get out. But soon he learned that Sunyshore wasn't the place he should have escaped from. Rated T for violence and intense themes.
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

_Welcome to the Shadows_

_What defines life? Is it the people you meet, the choices you make, the way you live? How do you know how you're supposed to live your life? I know a lot of people who want to tell me how to do it. But how do they know? Did they seek for the answer? Did they look for the wizard who could tell them, or did they conjure up their own ideas and attempt to force it upon others? The latter, I'm sure. Not because I don't believe in that wizard, but because I know how people are. _

_Of course, I'm not claiming to be better. But heaven forbid if I did, the world would implode! That is, at least, the way most people think. Everyone thinks they're better than everyone else, but if you say it then…I'm sure you can imagine. If you don't think you're better than everybody, then I bet you can name at least one person you know you're better than. If you still don't, then I hate to break it to you…You think you're better than the people who think they're better than other people._

That was deep.

Well, that's a taste of what occupies my mind when I'm sitting in class. I can't help the fact my mind wanders when I'm in boring situations. If I'm not thinking about something that isn't schoolwork, then I'm probably dozing off. It's not as though I don't care about Pokémon, I do; very much so. It's just I don't do the whole class, homework, test thing. That's way too tedious for my liking.

Looking towards my left and out the large window, I noticed it was raining. The drops rolled down the window, some of them rolling past into unknown realms. Looking farther I saw the ocean; the dark blue waves splashing harshly on the boulders lining the far side of Sunyshore. They looked like they were trying to devour it.

Even further sat a fishing boat caught in the storm. Luckily, unlike some Sunyshore rainstorms, it wasn't that big of a deal; the boat was safe. Around the boat, the waves looked much calmer. Not like big mouths eating a giant rock. They looked completely free. Free of any responsibility or…Anything, really. Considering I'm talking about water.

"Volkner, are you even paying attention?" Birdbrain asked.

Trying my best appalled person impression, I looked at her and said: "Why, yes, Miss Karp."

Birdbrain pursed her lips and gave me her famous death glare. "You better be. Tests are coming up." She turned back to the chalkboard and continued her squawking.

Someone elbowed my side, and I looked to my right. My brother, Fyn, leaned closer to me. "Do you have to make Miss Karp mad every day?"

"Yes, Little Bro, I do. I think of it as my personal daily mission, and now it's completed." I grinned at him as he shook his head and held back a smile. Yeah, I was in Trainer School with my younger brother. Like I said, the class, homework, test thing wasn't my style…Tests just made me nervous and I always bombed. Although, you don't even need schooling to be a trainer; that's a lie parents convince you of. Really, I could become a trainer. Thus, under circumstances I couldn't control and didn't like, I was stuck with ten-through-thirteen-year-olds every day until I can pass the exams. And I, being the mature age of fifteen, was forced to deal with it. But this time around, I wasn't going to bomb; I was passing all of my tests practically effortlessly. Fyn wouldn't graduate from TS before me. It's not going to happen. It's not going to happen. It's not going to happen.

I focused on the chalkboard ahead. "…That's compatible with most Flying Types, but not all." Birdbrain wrote 'Flying' under 'Egg Type.' "Tangled Feet is a rare ability, however. This was originally found with a Pidgey and then found in a Chatot." She wrote 'Tangled Feet' under 'Ability.' "Keen Eye is a common ability, it's found in large hunting Flying Types as well as a few very smart small hunters. Hoothoot, for example."

Okay, that was enough of that. I turned my gaze back to the window and to the ocean. The rain had stopped and the ocean had turned back to its clear teal color.

The dismissal bell rang, and I sprang up out of my desk. Miss Karp taught two classes, the first class and the last class. Thankfully, this was the last class of the day and I was free from the prison called school. Ignoring Birdbrain as best I could, I grabbed my mostly empty backpack and scurried for the door. She was still giving out the homework assignment, and her voice went up to a yell as I passed her. Her mistake was that she wasn't yelling a threat to me, only the homework. Why would I listen to that?

Barging through the classroom door, sprinting down the hallway, and opening the double-doors the lead to the happy sunbeams welcoming me back outside was my semi-daily routine. And, despite what it may seem like, it was rewarding. Beach weather, even though it's all I've ever known, made me happy; since I lived in Sinnoh's biggest and most popular beach town that was probably a good thing.

One of the downsides of living in Sunyshore was the tourists. What made that even worse was the fact that tourist season was all year round. Wintertime for us was nothing. The only difference being that natives didn't go swimming during winter; even then the beaches are full with tourists soaking up the sun. Busy city life, what ya gonna do? An upside, however, is that there are plenty of things to do. You can almost always bet that someone you know is at the beach, and if not, there's a whole city's worth of shops and restaurants. That was all First Level, of course.

Sunyshore is made up of two levels: First Level, being on the ground, is where the beaches, schools, marketplace, things of the like are located. Second Level was made of glass pathways that were first constructed for easy access to the rocky mountain that stood on one side of town. The mountain was where most of the houses in town are, including mine. The pathways consisted of the lighthouse, more homes, and a few random things like 'Mom and Pop' stores.

This was my home. I've been causing trouble around here my entire life. Only ever been to Pastoria twice before, mainly for a family getaway. Otherwise, I've been stuck to Sunyshore. Not as though I'm complaining, since apparently everyone wants to live in Sunyshore. Unless you live in Sunyshore, of course; then, you couldn't care less. Funny how that works. The same goes with the beaches; apparently they're the most beautiful beaches in Sinnoh—because the sand is perfectly creamy, the seashells don't break easily, the ocean is actually blue as opposed to green—but I don't care. People describe them as the most breathtaking thing in the world, but if you look at the same thing forever, it loses its luster. And these beaches don't have any more lusters in them for me.

As I wandered down Main Street towards Long Beach, or otherwise known as Main Beach, a gust of wind blew by. It reminded everyone that a nasty storm had just happened, even though you couldn't see the remains anywhere in the sky. It was a mystery how that happened so quickly. I made it to the beach, and walked to somewhere around the middle. There was a volball net and a group of people playing a game. Volball was a sport that involved a net and a Voltorb. The Voltorb would be the ball. Your object is to get the Voltorb on the other side of the net, hoping it would hit the ground. Sometimes the opposing team would hit the Pokémon back over to your side, and your goal was to make sure it didn't touch the ground and to get it back over the net. It sounds a bit repetitive, I know, and it is…But what makes it exciting is that sometimes Voltorb will use Spark and shock the crap out of you. Yes, it's just as hilarious as it sounds.

"Volkner!" My friend Trifler waved at me from the other side of the net. I returned the wave and grinned. Calling a timeout, he ran off the court and up to me. "Hey, joining the game?"

"Of course, give me a second." He nodded and went back to the net. I shed my t-shirt and kicked off my old sneakers along with my socks. Sighing, I looked towards the group of volball players. A few saw me looking and waved me over, so I jogged onto the sand court.

"Volk will serve," said Sheila. She smiled at me whimsically and I took the Pokémon from her. The Pokémon, appropriately nicknamed Spike, made an excited noise. My heart started to pick up speed and I bounced on my toes. I looked at my teammates: Sheila, Kaman, Marine, Darly, and Mace. I knew them quite well, this whole dozen (including myself) would meet up a lot to hang out and play. They were a good team, but the best one was definitely Trifler, and he was my opponent.

"Let's do this!" I yelled and served Spike.

* * *

Afterwards, we sat on the beach. The sun had just started to set on us as we sat where the waves rolled in and out hastily. We all laughed and made small group talk until it got silent, then one person said he had to leave and everyone else decided to, as well. I grabbed my stuff and started back into town. Trifler ran up beside me and elbowed me in the ribs.

"Going to see Rayne?" he questioned. I looked at him; he grinned and raised his eyebrows.

"First of all, you look stupid. Second of all, I see Rayne every day. Why's it always a surprise to you?"

"It's not a_ surprise_; in fact, it's the opposite of that. She's your best friend, I get it. Give her a kiss for me, will you?"

I matched his grin and pushed him over. "And you're eating sand, I get it." I smirked at him for a moment and then quickly helped him up. At first he glared at me, but then we started laughing.

"Whatever, man." He chuckled. "Just tell Rayne I said hi, okay? And that she should come hang out. She's been such a loner."

"Well, her dad died; what do you expect?" I asked, getting mildly agitated.

"Yeah, a year ago. She's had her time to grieve and whatever, and now she needs to get back to normal."

Nodding, I said: "I agree, but I'll let her do that on her own. She needs to do what she needs to do. Especially with the stress her mom's giving her about contests and everything."

"Definitely. Alright well, I'll catch you later." Trifler waved and continued down Main. I hung a left and went straight down the center of town towards Back Beach, the small beach that sat at the back of town. No one ever went there, except when someone wanted to throw an alcohol-filled, teenage beach party that I barely would attend. So it was nicknamed Dirty Beach, Black Beach, No Man's Beach, or simply and most popularly, Rock Beach since that beach met Sunyshore's mountain and boulders filled the shore.

The boulders were a plus, though. Or at least I thought so. The girl perched on one, drawing away on her notepad—_sketchpad,_ as she would correct me—agreed. Boulders were, in fact, a plus. That girl was Rayne, one of the only brunettes in Sunyshore, and my best friend. And by best friend, I mean the only person who kept me sane.

"Hey." I hopped up on the boulder next to her.

"Hey," she replied quickly; too transfixed on her sketchpad and piece of charcoal to speak to me, apparently. She was sketching the sunset.

"Another sunset? Don't you think you've got enough of those?" I smirked.

"It's different every day, Volkner." Annoyance filled her tone, and it made me smirk larger as I stared at her face. Her dark eyes took everything in carefully as she drew and her lips meshed together in-thought. Freckles dotted her cheeks; she hated them, but I loved them. It made her different from every other blonde-haired, blue-eyed, wannabe girl in this town. "You're staring again," she muttered.

"I just can't help it."

"Shut up." She rolled her eyes dramatically then cut them at me. She picked her sketchpad up and cocked her head at it, examining her work. Drawing was Rayne's thing, to say the least. Sometimes she'd even paint something, but drawing was what she was into. She had sketchpads upon sketchpads scattered about her room, and had filled every margin of every book she owned with doodles. She explained it as a tick. She had to do it, or she'd go crazy. And I believed her, especially because I've hardly ever seen her not drawing.

"You like it?" she asked, holding up her drawing proudly. Whenever she spoke about her work, a new, refining tone came about her. It was a different her; the real her.

"Eh, it's alright." I grimaced, then she shoved me so hard I fell off the boulder. Jumping up, I grinned. "Hey! I'm kidding!"

She laughed, and I copied. Then I grabbed her arm and pulled her off the rock, both of us falling on the sand.

"Volkner Parley!" she exclaimed, holding back a laugh, "treating a _lady_ in such ways? What would your mother think?" I shifted up to my feet.

"You're right, milady," I bowed and gave her my hand. She took it, and I yanked her up. "Better?" She nodded, and we laughed again. She collected her things that had fallen, then perched back on the rock.

"I wish I could draw a moving picture," she stated randomly.

"Why?" I chuckled.

"Because, when I finish drawing the sunset…It keeps moving. I want my drawings to keep moving, I want to continually capture life."

"Well, you better get on that, huh?"

She slightly smiled and gave me a look. "You're just _so encouraging_. How'd I ever end up with a friend as great as you?"

"I ask myself that every day. How _did_ you get so darn lucky?"

"Says Mister I-Don't-Brush-My-Hair." Rayne muttered.

"Ouch. Someone is sassy today." I touched my messy yellow hair. "And it's a style!"

"Lazy Pokémon style, maybe."

Gasping, I shouted. "Just crush my hopes and dreams, it's all good! And even worse…My style. What's with the insults?!"

Rayne laughed and leaned her head on my shoulder. "Whatever, Boulder Brain."

"Yeah…Can we forget the nickname I acquired when I was a young, handsome lad?" I pleaded.

"Not a chance, young, handsome lad."

Having gotten that name quite a few years earlier, it was hard for me to shake it. When Rayne and I met, she was sitting on a boulder in Rock Beach, drawing, as usual, and I approached the rock. She said hello, and I got so nervous talking to a girl that I tripped and slammed my forehead on the boulder and had a concussion and headache for the next four days. But during that time Rayne and her mom brought over cookies, and I gained a great friend.

"Hilarious."

"I know," Rayne looked up at me and I grinned at her, wrapped my arm around her shoulders, then we just sat there for a while, completely silent as we watched the sunset.

* * *

They had just told me the news. How did this happen? Why did this happen? It didn't make any logical sense. Suddenly, my life all came crashing into my skull. You could probably say I was ignorant to think I could go my entire life without bad things creeping in like an evil, demonic bug. But I never thought that way. Now…I felt hopeless. It seemed like there was nowhere to look, nowhere to turn to. I felt like a zombie.

What was life? Not being able to help it, those unwanted thoughts rolled into my mind. However, I was glad they came, because I realized: Life was a moving picture, a perfectly captured moment, a perfectly drawn and put together piece of art. That was life.

And like the waves to the boulders on shore, it was trying to devour me.

* * *

**Authors Note:** Welcome to my newest story, The Leader's Origin (expertly named by Espeonage Espeon, who is my favorite writer here on FF by the way), featuring Volkner's journey starting off as a trainer. I have epic plans for this story, and I hope you all enjoy! Obviously this takes place before any events of Diamond/Pearl, and even before the reign of Champion Cynthia.

Thanks for reading, tell me what you think!


	2. Numb

_Chapter One: Numb_

_Welcome to the Shadows_

The air was warm; I imagined this is how it would feel to curl up in an oven. Curling up in an oven sounds like a ridiculously stupid idea, and not the kind of ridiculously stupid idea that you and your buddies get on a boring summer day, but the kind of idea that I wouldn't recommend.

The air-conditioning in the school was broken, making the already small schoolroom feel like some sort of gas chamber. Birdbrain was sweating so much in her thick, nun-like dress that her sweat stains ran down to her elbows in her long-sleeves. It was a painful sight even without the sweat stains, they just successfully added hilarity. She opened up the windows, which did let in a lovely beach breeze from time to time, but the heat was still dreadful. And the ceiling fans were on—not helping the situation in any way, because they were whipping the hot air around you; giving you, in fact, the impression that you were curled up in an oven.

My attention snapped back to the class when everyone flipped open their notebooks and rummaged through it to find a clean page. I did the same, not sure of what was going on, and then Birdbrain started giving the _homework assignment. _I went all year without writing down one assignment, and I was somehow bamboozled into the act on total accident! The thought of simply closing my notebook and making a getaway crossed my mind, but I sighed and grabbed my pencil.

"Volkner Parley," Birdbrain announced, with—for the first time ever—hints of humor in her tone, "are you _writing down the homework assignment? _Are you sick? Should I get a doctor?" She laughed at herself, and it was the first time I had ever heard that nasally, demon-bird noise come from her thin, smile-less lips.

"Not sick, ma'am, I was simply dazed and confused by your mystifying sweat stains. They're quite distracting. Antiperspirant would help keep your clothes from sticking to you skin." The class laughed, and her once humor-filled expression turned back into her normal expression of sorrow and death. Her face lit up as bright as a tamato berry.

Success filled me, and I stood from my desk, homework assignment in-hand, and strutted over to the door. She said nothing. She didn't even look at me. That was only slightly alarming, because her all-too famous death glare was always her favored comeback. However, I dismissed the alarming feelings, because it was too amusing otherwise.

Outside of the school, the air was so refreshing and clean against my skin. Breezes came by as I walked into town, right on cue, and pushed my sweaty hair off of my face. I ran a hand through my hair; the breeze was oddly nice on my forehead.

Fyn caught up to me, looking winded, and said: "Okay, that was awesome, but…Miss Karp was the most mad I had _ever _seen her." He looked at me with worried eyes.

Smirking, I chuckled, "I know! It's amazing! And, you know, her name, _Karp, _is so incorrect. She shouldn't have the name of a fish. It should be like, Miss Pidgey…No, that's quite the insult to Pidgey's…"

He laughed, his worried look disappearing. Mission accomplished. I grabbed his dark blonde hair, darker than mine; just like Dad's, and pushed his head to the side. He let out a laugh, "stop it!" He said through laughs. I jabbed his side before letting him go, and he attempted to fix his usually neat hair.

"Anyways, I've gotta go. See ya at home, kid." I started walking backwards down Main to watch him walk up a glass pathway; heading home. He waved and grinned, and I returned a smirk. My Little Bro was pretty much the best.

Once I hit the beach, I went towards the back all the way to where it gets grassier and less sandy. There was a perfect dirt path that leads to the woods, where I can easily navigate to one of my favorite places. Along this path there were branching paths leading to the base of the mountain, where many houses sat. I could easily see the side of my house from there. Instead of facing the beach, it faced caddy-cornered to the city. Two houses over, a smaller house with the same white-and-blue color scheme sat; that was my brother Perry and his new wife's home. It once was my grandparents, but now it was theirs. The house in-between has nothing to do with my family, though, I don't know why my ancestors built two houses _not _next to each other, but it was no matter.

Past the branching pathways sat the Contest Academy, attached to Sunyshore's Contest Hall. Nothing interesting was taking place there today, however. I mean, nothing _interesting _ever happened there, because it's all about stupid contests, but today was just regular classes. There were only two contest halls in all of Sinnoh, one in Hearthrome and the other here in Sunyshore. Contests were held all the time in Eterna Forest and Jubilife, and even the annual Contest Champion Festival at the League Building; but those are all on makeshift stages and outdoors, the contests that are the most elegant and special are the ones in the Contest Hall, or so I'm told by Rayne, who is forced to attend the Contest Academy of Hell. She hated Trainer School, so her parents pulled her out a few years ago. Her mother, who worked at the Academy, tried to coax her into enrolling there, but she refused, and her dad backed her up. She spent two years not going to any school, working for a seamstress on Second Level, spending all her free-time enhancing her artistic talent, and she was happy. That was the happiest I had ever seen her. But then her dad died, and to make matters worse, her mother forced her to enroll in SCA. She hates contests with a passion, especially now that she's forced to partake in them every day. She's the strongest person I've ever known, and I don't let her forget that.

Finally, I reached the woods. Trekking through the tall-grass and low branches was easier said than done sometimes, but it was worth it. Deep in the woods stood a shack that was once a small hunting cabin; I assume that it was used for hunting before it was made illegal by a former Sinnoh Champion named Rocky. Then the current champion, Lea, made hunting and eating Pokémon meat legal again. My mother was raised by a strictly vegetarian family and converted my father, so I've never eaten Pokémon meat in my life. All of my friends are that way, too. But more and more people in Sunyshore are partaking in Pokémon hunting and eating. Fishing has always been big here in Shore; they sell the Pokémon in the black markets, usually give them Rare Candy and berry mixes to at least make them appear more powerful so they're bought or traded, or they cook the Pokémon and sell them that way. Now the marketplace is filled with fish heads and "fish burgers" and barbeque Starly. It's actually gross, the more that you think about it. Salads, soups, pastas, vegetarian burgers and wraps were what I preferred. Pokémon were companions; not food.

Approaching the door of the shack, I said: "Open." The door made a mechanical sound as it opened; that was my genius invention. I stepped in, the room was dark; wooden boards covered the windows. The door automatically shut behind me. I reached up and found the string and pulled it. On the other side of the room was a small loft used for storage space. I connected strings from above the doorway to the loft, so when I pulled them, something could slide over to me. A lantern and a pack of matches slid into my hand, and I took it and one match. After lighting the lantern, I maneuvered the string so the matches were placed back on the ledge. "Pikachu?" I called, and I saw two long ears followed by a sleepy face pop out of a hole carved into a box, underneath my makeshift bed. He sprung out of the box and into my arms, excited and happy to see me. "Hey, Buddy," I said as I scratched the Pokémon's neck. He bounded out of my arms, and looked up at me expectantly. Grinning, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a bag of two fluffy dinner rolls—soaked in honey—one-fourth of my leftover lunch wrap that had gotten a bit too soggy for my liking, and an old cookie for dessert. Pikachu stuck his tongue out in anticipation and shot across the room to grab his metal bowl. He dropped it at my feet and I dumped the contents of the bag in it for him. He began devouring the food, like he had never eaten a day in his life, and I sat at the old workman's bench in the corner.

When I first discovered this place, a long time ago, it was abandoned and dirty. It's still pretty dirty, but now it's mine. I fixed it up, slowly but surely—all on my own, mind you—and even moved some of my stuff from home in here. My parents never even noticed, and still to this day have no idea that my second home is a shack, where I'm housing a Pikachu pretty much illegally. Pokémon aren't supposed to be out of their Pokéballs unless they're battling or performing some other duty, they can't just be out without a reason. But Pikachu was my buddy, I couldn't keep him contained all the time.

One of the first few times I was here in the shack, while the windows were still broken or, in some cases, missing glass completely; Pikachu poked his head in through the glass, and before I knew it, was on my lap trying to eat my sandwich. This surprised me; all my life I was told that Pokémon are dangerous. That's why, in some places in Sinnoh, cities are protected by electric fences or, in the Golden Cities case, giant, two-story walls. But Pikachu changed my look on Pokémon, proving that they're supposed to be _companion _or _partners, _not slaves forced to fight other slaves, as people seem to wrongly think.

From what I've seen, making hunting legal wasn't the only thing Champion Lea affected in his reign. He helped mold a different view of Pokémon for people, telling them they're not pets; they're powerful, dangerous beings. Since he came from Hearthrome, once he became the big guy he started giving loads of money to Hearthrome, and soon the money flow spread to Jubilife and they sort of…_Linked, _becoming the Golden Cities. Hearthrome is apparently exclusive with two-story walls separating them from the rest of the world. They happily eat meat, dress obnoxiously, and dilly-dally with things we _peasants _wouldn't understand. Jubilife is the same, except you're allowed to pass through that city. It's not as exclusive. Rayne has visited the cities before, since her mom is a famous Contest Champion, she went over to Hearthrome and competed. Rayne told me horror stories of weird color hair, huge dresses and suits, rude people, and French-mix accents that sound faker than the diamonds in the marketplace.

Pikachu finished his meal, in record time, and hopped on my lap and almost instantaneously fell asleep. I grabbed the radio I had constructed out of things I found at the dump, my usual place of discovery, and tuned it to Jubilife Radio. Some soft music was playing through the occasional fuzz, and I moved my attention to my current project: A radon detector. I assumed that since we have an unusual amount of Electric Types around, we must have certain gasses coming from the ground. Though, I could be wrong. That's why I was trying to construct this detector. Although it's difficult when your only sources of getting parts is the marketplace, where you can only hope that some dealer randomly found what you need and didn't overprice it, and the dump, where the stupid dealers throw out my needed parts when their booths got too full.

After messing around with my project—that's all I ever did with my projects, just mess around with them—I reached up to one of my strings hanging above me and pulled it. Pliers, scissors, and a screwdriver fell into my hand. I grabbed the pliers, then messed with my project some more.

"Volkner?" The voice startled me, but it was only Rayne. "Hey, open up, I baked cookies!"

Grinning, I said, "open." The door clicked open, and Pikachu left my lap to see Rayne. He may have liked me, but he loved Rayne. She was, in fact, holding a bag full of seemingly chocolate chip cookies. She saw my eyeing the bag and rolled her amusement-filled eyes.

"Here, just take one before your mouth starts watering." Without hesitation, I took the bag and pulled out a warm cookie. Sinking my teeth into the fluffy, gooey goodness that is Rayne's cookies, I smiled at her.

"They're fantastic," I tried to say with my mouth full of cookie.

She smiled, "thanks." She opened her sketchpad and flipped it around to show me. It was a full-detailed sketch of a full moon over the beach.

"Breathtaking, per-usual."

"The moon was just right outside my window last night, _beckoning _me to draw it." The enthusiasm in her voice made me smile. "It only took me, like, five minutes. If even! I also started drawing my own little comic featuring my Flaffy—why are you looking at me like that?" Her eyebrows drew together, and her brown eyes looked at me inquisitively.

"Just you. You make me happy."

She rolled her eyes, as if to convey that she was annoyed, but I knew better than that. She turned away, closed her sketchpad and crawled up in my makeshift bunk-bed. It was just put together pieces of wood, with a sleeping bag and plethora of pillows to make it comfortable. And surprisingly, it _was_ comfortable. She sighed once she lay down. "Today sucked."

"And why's that?"

"Well today we had stupid rehearsals at the Academy of Sucking A Lot, where I got a bad grade that my mom is _totally _going to find out about...Oh, and speaking of my mom, I found out that she's…_Seeing _someone else." She spoke quickly, a sign that she was getting worked up.

"What do you mean?" Concern filled my tone, I hated it when Rayne felt any distress and I was sincerely concerned. She was basically the only person I ever felt that way for.

"She's _seeing _someone else, who isn't my dad."

"What?! Who?"

"Some contest guy that she's been spending all her time with recently. I don't know." She covered her face with her hands. She spoke slower; a good sign. I played with the pliers in my hands, searching for something to say to her, but didn't think of anything good.

"I'm sorry, Rayne."

"It's not your fault…But…I just…"

"I know," I began to say, but she cut me off.

"No, you don't," she said, full of annoyance and dismissal. I wanted to protest, but she continued: "How can you be married to someone for a long time, have kids with that person, and then when they unexpectedly die on you, go _see _someone else?!"

"Well it's been a year, maybe she's just ready to move on." I shrugged, mostly to myself for having nothing else to say, and she sighed angrily.

"You don't understand."

"No, but I can try."

"You're not trying very hard," she murmured.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what else to say." I stood up, about to walk over to her to comfort her, but she sat up quickly, and I stopped.

"I just wish I had someone to talk to…" Her voice was soft and, frankly, weak.

Ouch. "I'm not someone?"

"You know what I mean…Forget it." She got up, Pikachu in her arms, and leaned against the bed. I sat back down, I couldn't help but feel defeated, and looked away. Since her dad died, she was so hesitant to talk to me. About _anything, _really; she used to pour her heart out to me. Now she's so reserved, and the only way I know what she's feeling is by the passing comments she makes. "Maybe one day I'll be able to draw my moving picture." I looked at her again, and regretted looking away from her round, practically perfect face. "Dreams are such a waste, aren't they?" She met my eyes, and I noted the darkness her eyes held. Once upon a time her eyes were bright and happy, now, not so much.

Frowning, I said: "No, Rayne, no they're not. Don't ever say that." This time I stood up and walked over to her. I grabbed her face to examine it, "are you sick? You seem sick."

A smile tugged at her mouth. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm," she tried a Golden City accent, "_positively mad." _

"They don't sound quite as elegant as you," I laughed.

"Yeah, I'm not French-mix enough, like that Gym Leader Fantina." She rolled her eyes, and I was glad to see herself coming back. But as quickly as it appeared, it left. "Anyways, I should go home." I nodded, and told her I would walk her back. We said goodbye to Pika, and I turned out the lantern, and we left.

* * *

Elyse leapt into my arms as I neared the house. "Volk!" She squealed excitedly. I hugged my little sister against my chest. She was so lightweight that I easily spun her around and held her upside down. Her light blonde hair, twisted into a braid, swung down and almost touched the ground. She giggled, "pick me up pick me up!"

"Okay!" I brought her back up and folded my arms around her so my hands were at her sides, then I began tickling her. She squirmed, kicked and laughed. I almost dropped her once, but I hugged her tighter and tickled her more.

"Put me down put me down!" She said as best as she could. I stopped and sat her down gently. She was breathless, and stuck her tongue out at me, then busted out in laughter. Her laughter was so contagious, so young and bubbly. And after she laughed too hard, she would get uncontrollable hiccups. Oh, the adorableness of five-year-olds. Of course, she could also be the biggest brat that ever existed, but at times like this; she was the best.

Margie, my older sister, was sitting outside of the house; watching over Elyse no doubt. She looked tired. Her hair was only half in a bun, and most of it was sticking to the side of her face with sweat. She looked well over her age—which was only seventeen—and looked like some middle-aged housewife. "How's it going, Gie?" I asked.

She took a large breath at that question. "Well, Aunt Mary's driving me crazy, Mom has been sicker than a dog all day and hasn't left her bed, Elyse has all this energy that just won't burn off—no matter how many times she takes laps around the house—Dad was working all day until a little while ago, which, by the way, your _teacher _stopped by today."

That was new. "Oh yeah? Why?"

She scoffed, "don't sound so amused, Volkner, this is serious. She threatened to _fail you._"

"Fail me? Did she now?" She gave me a look, since there was still amusement in my tone, and paused.

"You were disrespectful in class today. I asked Fyn if it was true and he said yes."

"Oh, yeah, _that. _Yeah that happened." Shrugging, I started walking to the front door.

"_Volkner," _I stopped and looked over my shoulder. Elyse had ended up in Margie's lap. "Dad isn't going to be happy."

"Then don't tell him."

"She left a handwritten note for him. He probably already read it."

"Really? You couldn't cover for me?!"

_"Again? _The amount of times I've covered for you is ridiculous! This seemed too serious for me to ignore. I'm sorry, but, I had to." Nodding, I entered the house. I wasn't mad at my sister, it was true that she had covered for me _way too many _times, but her motherly instincts did get the best of her today.

The foyer of my house smelled like fresh flowers. Aunt Mary would pick flowers for the four flower vases every week. Normally they were stolen from the neighbor's gardens, but sometimes she would trek out and find them herself. The foyer was small; it was just my house trying to be fancy. Through the foyer was the kitchen, a good-sized kitchen with a snack bar and multiple windows; letting the setting sun's rays seep in and give the room an orange glow. On either sides of the room, it opened into either the living room—I could hear the television on—or the dining room, which was always neat as a pin and we weren't allowed in there except to eat. I saw my dad sitting at the table, looking right at me, like he was waiting for me. I got the urge to run away, but I walked into the dining room. My dad wasn't an intimidating man; or maybe I just thought that because I grew up with him. He rarely ever yelled or got mad—I think; I mean, I've never seen him successfully convey an emotion so far, so it could be possible that all this time he's been ridiculously angry and I didn't even realize it—and when he did, it was because of something reasonable. The last thing he got angry about was my sister Cirla. She left right after Trainer School to, obviously, be a trainer. She left hastily, and without really talking to anybody, and it's like she dropped off the planet. She sent us all of three letters in the years she has been gone, and the last one, received three years ago, said she was headed to Hoenn to be a trainer over there. We've heard nothing since. That story is all-too common with trainers. Her and I weren't really close growing up, not like me and Margie, so it wasn't too tragic for me, but my parents were crushed. Their oldest daughter abandoned them, basically.

So I entered the dining room and took the seat across from my dad. His face was angled exactly like mine, except somehow…Stronger-looking, and at the moment, pretty stern. I've only ever seen that look a few times.

"Your teacher came by when I was at work. Your sister gave me the note she left, and she said that you were, and I quote, _atrociously _disrespectful and mocked her in front of the entire class, which should not, under any circumstances, be tolerated. She says that you appear to only be trying when doing your homework, which is practically flawless, and that's the _only _reason she's not failing you right now. She's letting you off with a warning. Thus, so am I." He smiled. His smile was always so genuine, maybe that's why he's not an intimidating man. I smiled back, and nodded.

"Thanks Dad." He stood from the table and walked away. He wasn't one to talk. He was more about passing comments and nodding replies. He never gave lectures or anything of the like. He believes that showing us kids that he loves us is going to work every day, and putting food on the table; not showing us any other affection. But he was my dad, and I did love the guy, and it was times like this when I could tell that he was trying to be a father. That's all that mattered.

Aunt Mary had made her way into the kitchen to start dinner. She was an okay cook, but I always preferred my mom. Mom's stuff was always just delicious and perfect and gooey with cheese, unlike the dry, sometimes tasteless stuff Aunt Mary makes. But Mom was too sick to cook most of the time these days. She would be laid up in bed, with headaches the worst that they come. They're so painful that she curls up her toes while in bed, and has actually pulled locks of blonde hair out to somehow ease the pain. It made the pit of my stomach hurt with sadness, because it was my mom, and Mom was the best.

She wasn't a delicate woman. She was tough, and until she became too sick to say otherwise, was very independent. She cooked every single night for her family without complaining, and cleaned up afterwards diligently. She always had a good-spirit and a smile on her face. She was just a happy lady. She knew how to be funny, and how to take jokes. We had the same humor; the two of us could easily go back and forth and just _laugh _forever. Those are some of my favorite times.

Aunt Mary was nothing like her sister. She was cold and serious. I avoided her like the plague. And, since she was wronged by her two husbands, hates men altogether; so she hates me. That was cool.

The living room was dark, with only the glow of the television lighting it up. Dad and Fyn sat on the over-stuffed sectional couch, and I joined them until Aunt Mary announced dinner. She sat in Mom's bed and ate with her, so the dinner table was a little less cold. Perry and his wife Jessie came over to eat, like they do most nights, and that meant that all of us had to listen to Perry and Dad talk about work for the entirety of dinner. Afterwards, I helped Margie with the dishes…Or, more accurately, made a mess while she did the dishes. At least I managed to make her laugh.

It was pretty late, but I was hoping that Mom would still be awake. It had been a few days since I got to see her. The last time I saw her was when I sat in the kitchen with her while she cooked, and even though I know she was in pain, she was grinning and making fun of Dad. It was pretty hilarious.

Approaching her bedroom, I put my ear up to the door. I couldn't hear anything. I cracked the door and peered in. It was pitch black, the way she liked it when she had migraines, so I couldn't tell if she was awake or not. "Mom?" I half-whispered; nothing, she didn't even stir; but I heard her breathe deeply, so I closed the door and went upstairs.

* * *

The next morning, I took a quick shower before heading down to the kitchen. Aunt Mary was there, fixing breakfast for little Elyse, and Fyn was sitting in the living room reading, like the good little nerd he is.

"Volkner," Aunt Mary said. Her voice was deep and crackly, and my name rolled off of her tongue in a weird way that made me shutter.

"Yeah?"

She made a sound in her throat that I assume was supposed to be a sound of annoyance—she hated the word 'yeah'—then said: "Your parents were at the Center last night. Your mom had quite the episode, apparently. The doctor actually was helpful this time, however." I froze. My mom was at the Center. This was getting more and more serious. "She…She has a tumor in her head. Now, this isn't some sort of _joke,_" she said it as if I was about to start laughing—who would start laughing?—or like I would try to turn it into a joke, "it's very serious."

Elyse, with a look of terror on her face, hung onto every word Aunt Mary had said. "Is Mommy going to be okay?" Tears swam in her eyes.

"Well, Elyse, frankly—"

"Mommy's going to be fine, Ely." I cut Mary off and patted Elyse's head. She started to cry, and I picked her up and took her to Mom, who was awake and in bed. Elyse curled up next to her, and eventually fell asleep. Nothing was said by anyone. Mom, who looked exhausted, watched Elyse's face as she silently lay in the bed. I stood in the doorway, just looking at my mom and sister. Elyse looked just like a younger version of Mom, kind of like I was a younger version of Dad. I hoped more than anything that Elyse would _be _just like Mom, too.

* * *

She didn't get better, I was told, only worse. In her last few weeks she wouldn't leave the comfort of her room, and wouldn't let anyone except Aunt Mary and Dad in. The only time I saw her was when I would glance in while she was sleeping. She went to the beach alone with Dad a few times—as much as she could, I was told—just to get fresh air before her inevitable death.

It went by so fast. A part of me wishes that she didn't isolate herself from her children, so we could have…Said goodbye, and that we love her, or _something…_But Aunt Mary said that she wasn't herself in her last days. She was angry, and hateful, and _not _Mom. She didn't want us to see her like that. She wanted our last memories to be good. They were.

My emotions were broken, I think. I couldn't _feel _anything. I was just numb.

* * *

**Authors Note: **Hey readers! So this chapter got sad pretty fast...This story isn't supposed to be horribly tragic, but just bear with me! Haha. I hope you're enjoying this story. Leave a review! I want feedback of all kinds. Let me know!

Thanks for reading!


	3. Delicate

_Chapter Two: Delicate_

_Welcome to the Shadows_

Her funeral was good, I guess. A lot of family and friends showed up at our house. Rayne and her sister and mother showed up; baring cookies and a cheesy casserole—my mom's recipe. Why is it a custom to bring food as a death gift? "Oh, hey, your mom/wife/sister died? Here's food for the rest of the year!" However, I'm not complaining, especially if I have to live with Aunt Mary's cooking for the rest of my life; I could use some decent food.

Oh, and flowers. Everyone who couldn't attend the funeral sent flowers. Aunt Mary busied herself with placing the flowers all around the house so she wouldn't have to talk to anyone during the funeral. I learned one thing that day; Mary and Mom did have _one _thing in common: They weren't delicate. Mary didn't shed a single tear. Margie busied herself with Elyse, who was completely heartbroken. But I must amend Margie; she made the whole ordeal so much easier on our little sister by giving Elyse her full attention, and putting fake smiles on her face.

Fyn wouldn't leave Dad's side, copying Perry. I hadn't spoken to Dad at all since we found out about the tumor. He would work all day, and then lay in bed with Mom all night. He isolated himself, too; which only made Fyn want his attention that much more. Who could blame the little guy?

During the course of the time, I stood in the living room, away from the groupings of people who were speaking to my brothers and Dad. Some would speak to me, or give me a hug, but not everyone. Rayne stayed by my side, and my other friends flocked around me until it was too awkward that they left. But not Rayne, she stood silently beside me, sometimes running her hand down my back after someone came up to talk to me, or shooting me a comforting smile whenever I looked at her.

When my dad had to speak, he stood proudly in the center of the room, next to a tablecloth draped over an end table with a large bouquet of roses and an enlarged picture of my mom's obituary sitting on it. The obituary, which housed a color-drained, grainy picture of my mom on her wedding day, read:

_Meredith Emily Coldbroom/Parley: Mother of Perry, Cirla, Margie, Volkner, Fyn and Elyse; sister of Mary Elyse and Mason Fyn Coldbroom; wife of Volton Parley. Great spirit with a beautiful smile. _

Aunt Mary wrote it; I thought it was lame. She said that she had to name some of her family, so that friends of the family were aware, but I would have rather talked about Mom's awesome personality.

"I already miss My Emma dearly," my dad started, "she was the best mother for my children that I could ever hope for. She was the only woman I have ever loved, and will remain the only woman." His gaze never left the floor. "Emily was the best person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting and spending most of my life with. I still am in love with her, as I always will be." He cleared his throat, although there was no emotion on his face, and walked into the kitchen. Perry and Fyn were soon to follow him, and the large group of people all turned to mutter to each other. Elyse and Margie were nowhere to be seen, probably as far away as they can possibly be right now; I also wanted to be far, _far _away at that moment.

As if she could hear my thoughts, Rayne grabbed my hand. She laced her delicate fingers around mine, which I didn't even notice was curled into a fist. I wanted to look at her, but for some reason, I felt like if I looked at her I would lose it. Her hand was cold; or maybe that was just how it felt, since mine were pretty sweaty. I could feel a callus on her hand, right where the pen has rubbed her skin where she grips and holds on to it for dear life while drawing. Her hand seemed so small while it was in mine. She gave my hand a quick squeeze, then let go; I was about to grab her hand again when a man walked up to me. He stood tall and held his shoulders proudly. The first thing I looked at was his arms; they were lined with toned muscle. His white tee barely fit over his shoulders.

"Are you Fyn, or…?" He asked. His voice sounded adolescent, and when I looked him in the eyes, I noticed that he wasn't very old; older than me no doubt, but maybe only nineteen or twenty.

"Ah, no, I'm his older brother Volkner." It was always odd saying my own name. It caught me by surprise to hear myself say it; in a good way, I guess.

"Oh. I'm, uh, Mason." He nodded, like he was agreeing with himself. "Coldbroom, that is. Mason Coldbroom, your mom's brother."

Not knowing what to say, I also nodded. That gave him the impression that I knew who he was—which I didn't, I never met the man, and the only pictures I'd seen were from his childhood—and a look of relief washed over his face. "I heard about her death from Mary, she sent me a letter with a snippet of her obituary, and I was actually surprised that she had so many kids!" He laughed nervously, "A long time ago I met Perry and—Cirla? I think?" I nodded again. "Yeah, Perry and Cirla, but that was the last time I had seen everybody. I'm only five years older than Perry, my own nephew," he fake laughed again. That meant Mason was twenty-five years old; he looked younger, however, and had a young voice. "Anyways, I guessed that I should have been here…I mean, might as well, right? Meredith—Emily, as she goes by nowadays I suppose—we were actually pretty close growing up. Well, I was growing up, she was engaged when I was born and married shortly after. But for the first seven or eight years of my life I lived in Shore and saw her all the time. Spent most weekends right here in this house, actually. Then my mom decided to leave when my dad died, and she dragged me off to Veilstone. She passed when I was thirteen—in the grip of alcohol, just like Dad—and I was left to fend for myself. And, well, here I am," there was that laugh again. I fake laughed for less than a second, then covered it with a cough.

He stared off in the distance and didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon. I looked at Rayne, who looked about as confused as I felt, and she shrugged. "So where are you living now?" I tried conversation.

"Here and there…" He trailed off and hesitated. "I work for Lea's Guards now, actually." He eyed me weirdly, like telling me this would make me flip out.

"Oh, that sounds pretty cool." Shrugging, I peeked over towards the kitchen. Fyn and Dad were walking back into the room. "There's Fyn," I pointed, "since you were looking for him."

He looked dumbfounded, then he raised his eyebrows in remembrance, "oh yeah! I wanted to meet the kid that was named after me before I left," another laugh, "I'll…See you around, okay?" I nodded, and he awkwardly approached Dad and Fyn. Dad seemingly recognized him, and gave him a friendly handshake.

"That was so weird." I muttered.

"Yeah, pretty much." Rayne agreed. "Wearing his uniform to his own sister's funeral? That seems…" She didn't finish her sentence. He had a plain white shirt on, golden lightweight pants, and big black boots that went halfway to his knees.

"He's an odd one. Doesn't look much like my mom, either." I could slightly see it, but not enough to assume they were siblings.

"Maybe it's the age gap?"

Nodding, I looked at her, "you're a smart one, Miss Rayne." She smiled, and I returned a smirk. "Want to get out of here?" She nodded hastily, and I grabbed her hand and led her outside towards the beach.

* * *

Birdbrain squawked at the top of the class. I was trying to listen, but she was babbling on about the importance of studying, since the test was only _three days away, _and I zoned out. I was having lovely thoughts about the pancakes Jessie had made this morning, when she squawked my name.

"Yes, ma'am?" My voice sounded as innocent as an angel.

"You didn't turn in your homework, or your essay about Water Type's. Now _isn't _the time to be slacking off, since the test is only—"

"Three days away?" I asked, the innocent tone still expertly shining in my voice.

She glared at me. "Indeed. You're hanging on by a thread as it is, I wouldn't start playing around now."

"Why not? Don't you want me in your class another year, Miss Karp?"

"Well, if you _must _be in my class again, I certainly won't be as pleasant as I am this year." I made a face of disgust. _This _was her being pleasant? "Or understanding," she continued, "I've let your homework slip ups slide this past month, knowing of all you've been going through"—referring to my mother—"but it _has _been a month, and it's the end of the year. Understand?" I nodded, and when she started babbling about the importance of these essays, I looked over at Fyn. He didn't look back, but he looked nervous. I could almost see the sweat drop on his forehead.

"Homework slip ups of the past _month? _I haven't been handing in my homework for the past month?"

He shrugged, "I don't know, have you?"

Rolling my eyes, I sighed. "Fyn, you've been doing my homework for the whole year, what's up?"

"Maybe I just think that you have to be responsible for yourself…Or something." He sounded angry. His angry voice was similar to what an angry, human-speaking Pikachu would sound like.

"Really? Did Perry tell you that? That sounds like something Perry would say."

"Maybe." He whispered, and turned his head away from me. I scoffed, and looked back up at Miss Karp. She wasn't even paying attention to the class anymore, just babbling on about not important stuff.

She soon finished her babbling, and then the dismissal bell rang. Fyn and I exited the building and started walking home. "So, I guess I'll be writing that essay and doing that homework tonight." I muttered.

"I guess so." He tried to sound conniving, but it came out unconvincing.

"Why, Fyn, just…Why? I mean, it's like an epic betrayal from my own blood!"

He rolled his eyes dramatically. "I'm just tired of being used, okay?!"

"You're not being _used, _don't make it sound so dirty."

"Whatever you want to call—or not call it, I'm tired of it. You want to pass? Do it yourself. Is that so hard?" He looked up at me, his face full of sincerity. I clenched my jaw, mostly out of annoyance and slightly out of anger.

"You're so…Cruel, and dorky. You're dorkruel."

He slightly smiled, but fought it back. He said: "He says _I'm _the dork?" then took off, grinning, before I could hit him or something. I laughed at his attempt and continued down the glass path.

When I walked through the front door, I saw Perry pacing in the kitchen. Meaning: He was waiting to talk, or more accurately, lecture me. Since Mom died, Dad pretty much checked out of the Dad Department, and started taking more shifts at work. Perry noticed, and started coming over on a daily basis, and even invited me and Fyn to go live with him and Jessie. Fyn almost seemed excited at the opportunity, but when I shot it down within seconds—not wanting to leave _my house _and live with my brother of all people—he rejected the idea, too.

Walking into the kitchen, I sighed dramatically, "yes, Perry?"

He gave me an angered expression. "Fyn has been doing your homework all year?!"

"Yup. Will that be all?" I grabbed a berry from the counter and took a large bite.

"Do you even _realize—" _He started, but then he face-palmed. "Why would you both force more work on your younger brother, and screw yourself over by not actually _learning _anything?"

"Actually, he never had a problem with it until you talked to him, and I've passed every single test—all on my own—with nearly perfect scores. I'm smart, who knew?" I started walking back out the door.

"You're really just going to walk away while I'm talking to you?" He followed me out.

"I was planning on it, except you weren't supposed to follow me."

"Volkner, your immaturity needs to stop here." I heard him stop walking, but I continued. "Stop walking, and come right back here _now." _I didn't stop. He started yelling more things, and I heard him get farther and farther away as I neared the center of town, then I heard him getting closer. I looked over my shoulder; he was running after me. I started sprinting, I was much faster than him, and ran through the crowds of town easily while his yells got drowned out by all the city voices.

But I didn't stop running. It was a good release of the anger I had all-of-a-sudden received, and it got me to my shack quicker. Pikachu was pleased to see me, and I was happy to see the little guy, too. I gave him the rest of the berry I got from home, and promised him I'd get him more food later.

Sitting at my desk, I plopped my backpack that I still had with me on it and pulled out my Types textbooks and my notebook. Water Types were okay, and since I lived in Sunyshore, I had enough head knowledge to pop out an essay. My favorite was Electric Types, however. Pikachu is a big reason for that, I think; but I've always been fascinated with electricity itself. I even made a mini tesla cord project a few years back, just for fun. It's been a hobby of mine, I guess. I love watching lightning during a storm. When it's completely dark outside, one bolt of lightning can light up the entire sky like its day. It's almost inspiring how that works; how _one _bolt of lightning can do that…Well, almost.

Losing complete track of time, I scurried to write the last few sentences of my essay, and then shoved everything back into my pack. Saying goodbye to Pika, I took off to Rock Beach.

When I arrived, everything was as normal: Abandoned beach, and Rayne sitting on her boulder drawing. I perched myself next to her, and I finally felt like I could breathe again; letting out a large breath, I wondered how long, exactly, I had been holding my breath. Peeking at her sketchpad, I noticed she was intently drawing a picture of me; taking me by surprise. It was a side profile view; all of my facial features were detailed—and pretty perfectly captured—and all of my colorless hair was falling in front of my face rather elegantly. My eyebrows were turned down and I looked stern, and I realized that that's how I was looking at the picture right at that moment, and I lightened my face. My jaw was set—again, just like it was right then—and my lips were seemingly pressed together hard. The angles of my face were so perfect, it barely seemed like a drawing.

"That is one handsome devil right there," I said, "mmm, that's probably the most beautiful drawing you've ever drawn."

She let out a 'pfft,' and gave me a look, "so you like it?"

"_Like _it?! I love it!"

"Oh, right, I forgot, it's _you, _and you love yourself, so of course you'd love this!" She snickered at herself, and then didn't give me a chance to reply: "I'm not finished yet, there are some more details for me to add in, and then of course I've gotta color your sandy hair—"

"I prefer Sandy Locks Of Love, _actually." _

"Whatever," she waved me off, "and your blue eyes, then I think I'll be done!" She smiled at her sketchpad. "Do you want it? You know, to tape to the ceiling above your bed, so you can gaze at your _sandy locks of love _every night before you fall asleep?"

"Tempting, but if I take it, what will you have to stare at all day? I mean, whenever the real thing isn't around, of course."

"Of course," she snorted, then shook her head and grinned, probably wondering why she even asked. A drop of water splashed on her sketchpad, luckily not ruining her work, and we looked up at the sky. It looked like a storm was rolling in.

"Want to head back to the shack?" I asked, and she nodded. We started through town when the rain started to pick up, so then we were sprinting. She laughed and squealed when it rained even harder, and I grinned at her; it seemed like the Old Rayne was, somehow, making an appearance.

"Open!" I yelled as we neared the shack. The door swung open, and we stumbled through, laughing as hard as we could. We were soaked. Raindrops were still running down my face from my hair as I lit the lantern.

"No! Your locks of love!" She could barely get the words out through giggles. She pushed my wet hair back, then laughed some more. "It looks like your hair is super-gelled back or something…It actually looks styled!"

"Quick! You better draw it fast, because this will be the only time it looks like that!" We laughed, and then thunder boomed over the shack.

Seriousness took over Rayne, "is it safe to be in here during a storm like this?" She asked.

"Yeah, we'll be perfectly fine…The reason I didn't suggest my house is because both Fyn and Perry are pretty upset with me, and—you know me—I'd like to dodge and avoid that as much as possible." I let out a laugh, but she didn't; a concerned expression crossed her face.

"You know, Fyn came over to my house and talked to me today," she spoke, "he wanted me to convince you to apologize to him, and to, in his words, change your life around."

Rolling my eyes, I said: "That's Perry speaking through him. I understand that I really shouldn't have let him do my homework, but it's not even a big deal. He never minded until Perry got involved."

"It's not about Perry," she started.

"Exactly!"

"It's about Fyn, and his feelings are hurt. Maybe you _should _apologize, and lighten up a little."

"How would you know? You don't have any brothers, Rayne!" I snapped.

"So? I'm still a younger sibling, and I know what it's like to have my feelings hurt by the only person I look up to for advice and as a role model and everything…Especially when trying to adjust after a tragedy." She gently smiled.

Sighing, I told her I would apologize to Fyn, and then I read her the essay I wrote for school. She gave me a little bit of critique, and I jotted her advice down. _How could I get through this without her? _I thought. Her face was dimly lit by the lantern, and it gave her a tannish glow. Her brown eyes were off in the distance, lost in thought as she aimlessly petted Pikachu. Her brown hair was sprawled across her shoulders, mostly dry from getting soaked earlier. "Rayne," her distant stare left, and she looked at me, "I couldn't get through this without you."

"Get through what?" She asked.

"…Everything, really. Just life in general, and then the big stuff. Like my mom, without you, I probably would have lost my mind after…You know," she nodded, "and you've always helped me with Fyn and Margie and all of my friends and Aunt Mary and…Everything!"

Smiling, she chuckled, "I know what you mean." That was all she said, but her face, filled with happiness, told that she appreciated me saying that, and that's what I cared about.

"I love you," I said, and although it was implied in things I've said in the past, I had never put the words together quite like that. Something spread through my chest, like a water balloon had rammed into my shirt and water spread across it; but different, and I liked it.

She smiled back, and blushed only slightly, but didn't say it. I didn't need to hear it; all I wanted was for her to know.

* * *

**Authors Note: **And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the softer/softest side of Volkner. At least for a while, this is as mushy as it will get, so enjoy it while it lasts.

What did you all think of this chapter? Remember, as I stated in a previous author's note, this story isn't supposed to be terribly tragic for too much longer. Don't worry. Angsty, probably; but tragic, I'd say no.

Thanks for reading!


	4. Rayne

_Chapter Three: Rayne_

_Welcome to the Shadows_

The amount of people in the Contest Hall was astounding. Trainer School graduations were a pretty big deal here, apparently. All of our teachers sat on the stage, and the principal gave a lackluster, used speech as we sat in the front and tried not to fall asleep. Afterwards, everyone cheered and applauded as we all, one by one, accepted a piece of paper that stated simply: You graduated Trainer School!

Exciting, I know.

But, surprisingly I _was_ excited. _Finally _being done with school and being able to leave off to pursue training seriously was an amazing feeling. All of a sudden, I felt a sense of freedom and accomplishment that I had never felt before. It was a new sensation, and it overpowered every other feeling inside of me. The pit in my stomach that never went away since Mom died was, somehow, conquered by this feeling of awesomeness. I couldn't stop grinning.

My whole family was there, and for the first time in my entire life, they all seemed so proud of me and my accomplishment. Even my dad, who spoke to me for the first time in a month saying: "I'm so proud of you, Son." He said the same thing to Fyn of course, who also was graduating, but it still meant a lot.

Rayne tagged along with my family, and she looked cheerful and full of excitement. She hugged me tightly the second she could, and yelled, "You did it!" in my ear.

"I know!" I yelled back.

She grinned, "I haven't seen you this happy in a while! I mean, _genuinely _happy. I like it! It's like you're you again." She poked my stomach. I laughed, and didn't say anything back. I didn't want to ruin the moment by saying that Rayne was _finally _getting back to herself again, too; so I just didn't say anything at all. She was still more reserved than Rayne ever was before, but her gloomy and annoyed attitude was seemingly taking a permanent vacation. She even wanted to join me in going down to the beach to play volball; which not only surprised me, but all of our friends as well. She distanced herself away from everybody except me, understandably so, I suppose; but now, she was so delighted to see everyone and even played volball for a little while. She sucked at it, as always, but had a good time laughing at her failed attempts.

It got late, and we were all still hanging out at the beach. Trifler and I were trying to build a sandcastle, when Perry so rudely interrupted as. He approached the start of the greatest sand fort ever, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Volkner, you need to come home." I rolled my eyes.

"Why, Perry? It's not even that late, and Dad knows exactly where I am."

"He also asked you to be home by eight, and its nine now. Explain that to me?"

"Whatever Perry," I stood up, and waved goodbye to everyone. We walked back, Perry gave me a lecture about how he _had _to come down to the beach to get me, because he _has _to teach me responsibility, because how will I ever learn otherwise, and I _apparently _haven't learned yet. I didn't say anything, a little too fumed to speak.

We entered the house and he stopped me at the kitchen. He seemed less frustrated as he leaned against a counter, which made my anger start to seep away. "So now that you're a graduate, what are your plans? You can catch Pokémon and train and everything, is that what you want to do?"

"Definitely, I've always wanted to be a trainer."

"Well, if that doesn't work out, you've always got Dad's architecture company to work at. I started working there when I was your age, best thing I ever did."

"Yeah, well, I'm not you," I chuckled, trying to play it off as a joke, but Perry must have seen through it.

"I'm just saying, sometimes training is…Irresponsible. Especially these days, with the Golden Cities and the guards; no one becomes a trainer anymore, Volk."

"What does the Cities and the guards have to do with people being lazy?" My anger slowly started coming back.

"Ever since they became prominent, there haven't been any trainers. And it's not _being lazy. _It's being responsible and getting a job that pays you. Living in Sunyshore is perfect for that. We're lucky to live here. Would you rather live in, Solaceon, for example, and be struggling because there's no work? Here there's plenty to do, with plenty of freedom."

"Like my friends that graduated last year, that are lifeguards or waiters, living with their parents still? Is that what you want for me? This is my _dream. _I want to become a trainer."

"For what? Badges? A little bit of money?"

"Yes! And life experiences, and to travel, and to get out of this town."

"You know what happened to Cirla. She left off, because she hated it here, and tried to be a trainer in Sinnoh. She got past the second gym, got bored, and left to another region. I don't want that for you."

"Why are you trying to be my dad, Perry?! Just stop! I don't want whatever you're trying to give!"

He sighed and placed his fingers on his temples. "I'm not trying to be Dad. I'm trying to be your older brother, _which I am."_

"I don't care. Stop it." I turned around and approached the stairs, "I'm going to do whatever I want, and you can't do anything about it."

* * *

The marketplace was placed in an odd spot in Shore. It was placed more in the back corner, and with lots of alleyways surrounding it made by businesses and houses. It was an open-air market, with booths varying in shapes and size selling all kinds of things. In the front, there were bigger booths selling fresh vegetables, meats and berries. The next section was booths that sold jewelry, clothing, and some household necessities. Next there were booths that sold training supplies and such; past that, you could find booths that sold anything. That's where the marketplace started branching down alleys, and where the "black market" was located; they sold pretty much everything imaginable. Drugs, alcohol, even Pokémon. Champion Lea makes claims that the black market has been shut down, but it's never shut down. He just says that to appease his audience.

As I walked down an alleyway, scouting for a booth that looked like it could possibly house the part I need for my detector, I saw a booth filled with art and art supplies. Approaching it, I saw a sketchpad with a painted front. It was painted in a lot of oranges and reds, and the colors reminded me of Rayne. The lady looked excited to see me, and when I bought the sketchpad she threw in some drawing charcoal free of charge. With a quick thank-you I paid the lady then continued down the street.

The end of that alley opened up into a large circle, and booths circled around me. A few of them were closed tents, and I didn't want to know what was going on in _those _tents. However, one of the booths had a pile of junk, and I quickly rifled through it. Nothing looked like it would help me with my project, so with a sigh, I turned to leave. Across from that booth was one of the tents, and I saw three hefty guards exit from it. They wore the same uniform as Mason did, I remembered, and they had a look of superiority over their faces. Besides Mason, I hadn't seen a guard in-person before; it made me stop in my tracts, and get a slight feeling of nervousness. It was weird having someone authoritative in your presence. As the three men started to walk back down the alley, one of them looked over at me. I quickly looked away, realizing that I was just blatantly staring at them, then turned back around to pretend to look at the booth again. Once I assumed they were far enough away, I walked back down the alley and into the main part of the market. Scanning around, I noticed that there were quite a bit of guards. They weren't doing anything, other than seemingly buying things or talking to other guards, but it still stuck out to me. Why were there so many guards in Shore?

Dismissing the thoughts, I continued out of the crowded place and walked to Rock Beach, where Rayne was waiting for me. With a smirk on my face, I handed her the sketchpad and charcoal. She seemed genuinely surprised and delighted that I had thought of her, and she gave me a hug.

We sat on the boulder, she was finishing up her newest sketch, and I said: "So there were a lot of guards at the marketplace."

"Yeah. This weekend is the annual Pearl of Sunyshore Contest, and a lot of people from the Golden Cities are showing up, or will be arriving, so they sent over some guards from there. You know, because our town is _so dangerous." _

"I know, it's awful. I'm questioning my own safety here. You're a loose cannon, you could start throwing punches any second now!"

She laughed and punched my shoulder, "At least I'm not mentally unstable, Boulder Brain."

"See?! I was right!" I grabbed my shoulder, which hurt more than I'd like to admit. "By the way, everyone was so happy that you went to the beach last night. First time you've been there in over a year, right?"

Her smile faded away. "Yeah, I guess." She muttered.

"What? Did you not have fun?"

"It was okay." She looked away.

"Is that it? Is that all you're going to say?" She hesitated, "Rayne, are you ever going to _talk _to me again?"

"What?" She gave me an annoyed look.

"You don't _talk _to me like you used to. Now it's just passing comments and jokes. Which is fine, but it used to be that, and you used to tell me what was on your mind. Whenever you try to actually talk to me nowadays, you end up getting upset and act like I always say the wrong thing and you won't let me ask questions and it's all wrong!"

She just looked at me for a few moments, searching my face. "What do you want me to say?"

Sighing in defeat, I said: "I don't know. Maybe you should tell me _why _you all of a sudden became reserved."

She shook her head, "I don't have an answer for you."

"And like now, you're not yourself. You're gloomy and distressed, you only recently started being happy and normal again, for the first time since..."

She frowned and wouldn't look at me again. "I'm sorry that I didn't snap back like a rubber band like you did after a parent died. It took me—I know—a year to start trying to be like I was. It's not easy! I thought _you of all people _could understand. Is it because now you're actually in the same boat as me—down to one parent—that you feel like you can critique me on how I should act because of it?" Her eyes started to fill with tears, but she held them back professionally.

Putting my arm around her hips, I said: "Of course not. I'm sorry, I should have never said that." She didn't reply. I looked over, a large family had entered the beach, and a few screaming kids ran and splashed in the water. "Want to go back to the shack?" She said yes, and we left.

On the walk back, she didn't say much. She must have still been upset with me, and I felt pretty bad about it. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. Soon we made it, and I messed around with my project—not making any progress since I didn't have parts that I needed—and she lay in the bed, sketching on her new sketchpad.

"Oh wow," she said, a few hours later. "It got dark really fast. Are you going to leave soon?"

"No, actually, I'll hang with Pikachu tonight. I don't really want to be home. Want me to walk you back?"

"No, I'll be fine. Luckily my mom is so busy with this contest, she won't even know I was out so late." Rayne hugged me, and then I opened the door for her to leave. I crawled onto my bunk, which smelled perfectly like Rayne's soft perfume, and Pikachu crawled up and nestled himself at my side. One day, me and Pikachu would go off on our own adventures. The only problem was figuring out when we would go. _Soon, _I told myself, _soon._

* * *

The next morning, I awoke at about noon. I didn't mean to sleep so late, but it happened. I was hoping Dad would have no idea that I never came home, and I would have successfully avoided everyone without getting caught. I gave some food to Pika before leaving, then I started walking back home. It was sunny and nice, as usual.

Walking through the door, I started for the bathroom; in-need of a shower. But then I saw Dad, pacing around the living room. He looked up and saw me, "Volkner! Oh, thank goodness," He threw his arms around me for a forced embrace. He patted my back so hard it made me want to cough.

"Uh, Dad?"

He stepped back and grabbed my shoulders. There was a look of terror in his eyes. "I thought something happened to you, Fyn said you never came home last night. Perry has a search party out for you!"

Quickly I started to think of someplace to say I was, since I still wanted to keep my shack a secret, but he continued without even asking: "Rayne never came home, either, and…" He trailed off; the way people trail off when they absolutely cannot fathom finishing their sentences.

Rayne never came home.

"Is she okay?" My voice was weak. I remembered my dad saying something to me once about never having a weak voice, but I didn't care at that moment.

Dad shook his head. His look of terror was replaced with pity, and all of a sudden, the worst feeling I had ever felt washed over me. "She's…?" He nodded.

The rest of the day was a blur. All I remember: My best friend, for the first time since we met, wasn't in it.

* * *

**Authors Note:** And that is the last of the tragedy. Now we'll start to get into the story, where the plot(s) will begin unfolding. I'm really excited and having a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you all are enjoying it! Also: I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but this takes place before any events of my story The Champion's Beginning.

I'm trying really hard to capture Volkner's personality. So far so good, I think, but I've still got some work to do. What do you think?

Thanks for reading! Leave a magical, majestic, mystical review!

*Shout-out and unending thanks to these wonderful readers: DeathGoblin, Espeonage Espeon, KuraiTamashi, and WyldClaw; thank you for the advice, praise, critique and comments. Means the world to me!


	5. Zombie

_Chapter Four: Zombie_

_Welcome to the Shadows_

They had just told me the news. How did this happen? Why did this happen? It didn't make any logical sense. Suddenly, my life all came crashing into my skull. You could probably say I was ignorant to think I could go my entire life without bad things creeping in like an evil, demonic bug. But I never thought that way. Now…I felt hopeless. It seemed like there was nowhere to look, nowhere to turn to. I felt like a zombie.

What was life? Not being able to help it, those unwanted thoughts rolled into my mind. However, I was glad they came, because I realized: Life was a moving picture, a perfectly captured moment, a perfectly drawn and put together piece of art. That was life.

They told me about Rayne. She was found in the woods, with bruises covering her body and a knife wound in her stomach. She died because of blood loss, the doctors had said, but she was murdered by a knife, of all things. She was found outside of Sunyshore; where she herself would never had gone to. People started saying that it was suicide, that the poor girl shoved a knife in her own stomach, but the bruises on her arms said otherwise. The murder was reported, to whoever gets the report—guards, maybe Lea, any other authority—but they won't do anything. Nobody gets _murdered _here. Murders are incredibly rare; the authorities don't even know how to handle them.

It didn't matter who did it, though. It just mattered that it was done.

* * *

_Another night of not being able to sleep, _I rolled over onto my back and shoved the blankets off of me. The windows in the loft Fyn and I shared were open, letting a breeze come in and graze my bare stomach and chest. I pushed my sweaty hair out of my face, and contemplated getting out of bed. Fyn was still fast asleep—in his reading glasses and book still placed in his hand—so if it was too early for him, it was way too early for me. I turned back on my stomach, and forced another hour or so of sleep. Fyn woke up at his usual time, and in turn woke me up by grumbling about falling asleep while reading again. He looked different when he first woke up; his hair, which is usually combed to perfection, stuck up everywhere. And his face looked so much younger, like a little child. He was only thirteen, about to turn fourteen, but he looked ten or so in the morning. He yawned, making himself look more childlike.

Eventually I got up, crawled down the ladder to the second floor, and went into the bathroom. The cold water of the shower felt good on my skin. It was the best way to start a hot summer day. I stood there for a while, tempted to just stay in for the rest of the day; but alas, I got out.

Margie tried to talk to me in the kitchen while I ate soggy cereal, but it was to no avail. I would barely speak, and it eventually annoyed her and she left. I was just _done _with trying to act. If I didn't feel like talking, I wouldn't talk. I was pretty much done with everything. Life had me fed-up, to say the least, and I was just done. Perry stopped lecturing me about my life, even; that's how obvious it was. After apologizing to Fyn, who gracefully forgave me, things were normal; until Rayne. Then _he _seemingly avoided _me_. Especially after he took Perry's offer of moving in with him this weekend, and admittedly, I was hurt. I always assumed me and Fyn were as close as brothers could be, much closer than we were with Perry, but apparently I was very wrong.

Elyse became wary of me, and started avoiding me. It made me sad, but it was nice to have that distance from everyone. In the back of my mind I told myself that it wouldn't last forever, and somewhere deeper than that, I hoped it was true.

Back in the loft, I put on some fresh clothes and grabbed Pikachu's Pokéball. Since I was an official trainer, I didn't have to hide my Pokémon anymore. I attached the Pokéball to a holder that connects to the hip of my pants, and then started into town.

The marketplace was filled with extra business on this Saturday morning. People crowded around venders, trying to purchase whatever they came here for before someone else gets to it. Mothers with three or more children crawling on them stood at the vegetable venders, looking both exhausted and extremely annoyed at the same time. The most interesting thing about the marketplace was how a whole variety of people were all forced to be with each other in one place. The richer of Shore didn't have their own section; they crowded around food vendors with all the poor people of Shore, too. Trainers were buying supplies—Pokéballs, repellants, traveling gear—Contest contestants buying jewelry and accessories for their Pokémon. Parents, children, elders, younglings; everybody came to the marketplace, and everybody suddenly became the same.

Knowing that the main sections would be no use to me, I pushed through the people wearing Contest dresses and work uniforms and raggedy coats and everybody else. I went down an empty alley, relieved that I wasn't in the crowd. Passing the artistic booth I had bought that sketchpad for Rayne weeks ago, I stopped to look at it. It was closed, and looked pretty abandoned. Of course I started to feel sad; but I walked away before I could feel anything more. I had been busying myself with distractions: Training, constantly working on projects, and playing volball as much as possible. It would work all day, then at night I would be up for hours; the pain of loss sitting on my chest heavily.

At the end of the alley, it opened up to the familiar booths and tents. The nearest booth, that usually sold all the junk I get for my projects, didn't have anyone working in it. I approached it, thinking that maybe someone would come if they saw me, but no one did. The next booth over held a vendor, talking to a sharply dressed man. The vendor didn't look too thrilled talking to the man. I assumed the man, who wore a pinstriped suit, was some man of importance here to speak business with the vendor. The vendor shook his head, and scratched the back of his neck nervously. The businessman lifted the cigar that he held up to his mouth and took a breath before speaking again.

The vendor motioned to the left, where a tent stood, and the businessman, who was facing away from me, entered the tent. The vendor eyed me, and walked over to the booth. "Interested in anything?" He said, only half-interested.

Rifling through the piles of mechanical junk, I couldn't find anything for my new project. The vendor must have assumed that, because he left the booth to go speak to another man that approached the booth next-door. I watched them, while still pretending to look for a part, and the vendor reached under his counter and pulled out what looked like a pill bottle. _This is the black market, after all. _I reminded myself, and dismissed what I had just seen.

The businessman exited the tent just as I turned to enter the alleyway. I froze, because I saw that he was coming right for me. He approached; and I suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

"Jeck Walter," his voice was smooth and deep. He stuck out his large hand, and I took it. His grip was strong, probably too strong for just a friendly handshake.

"Volkner," I muttered; I could tell he noted the hesitance in my tone, and he quickly took a breath of his cigar.

"Volkner? That's a strong name. Would you consider yourself a strong person?" His questioning tone was an intimidating one. Not demanding, but intimidating. He held his cigar gently and flicked it before placing it back between his lips. He was clean-shaved, and his hair was styled. What could a businessman want with me?

"I suppose," he nodded, and the corners of his mouth turned into a sinister smile.

He must have been finished with his cigar, because he rubbed it on the ground and left it there. "Now, Volkner, how old might you be?"

The question came across casually, but I felt like if I gave out such information it could lead to trouble. "Why are you asking, Sir?" I put my shoulders back and tried to look a little bigger.

His smile still lay on his face, "I apologize, I'm simply an inquisitive person." There was something twisted about the way he said those words, it made a chill run through my arms. Nodding, I started to take a step towards the alley entrance. "Volkner," I liked the way my name sounded in his twisted tone, "don't leave so soon. I like you, Kid." I turned to look at him. His smile widened, and he put his arm around my shoulders and led me down the alley. "I can already tell that you're a strong-natured man. You're protective—I can see it in your eyes—and seemingly smart. Tell me if I'm wrong, Volkner, but you also tend to be on the stubborn side, correct?"

He was giving me a look filled with humor and something else; an ominous look. "Are you psychic or something?" The words spilled out in my anxiousness.

He gave an unexplainable laugh, "no, no. So you're saying I'm right?" He grinned, "excellent!" The word twisted around his tongue like a snake; making even that one, simple word sound striking. But it didn't scare me, in fact, I liked the way it sounded. "Tell me something about yourself, Volkner."

Frowning, the uncomfortableness I felt when he first approached returned. "Why?" Suddenly I became aware of my surroundings. He took me in the opposite direction of the marketplace, down another alley, and we were walking down a street I wasn't familiar with. "Where are we going? Sir," I stopped, and he moved his arm, "explain yourself." I started reaching for Pikachu's Pokéball.

He put his hands up defensively, but his grin still stayed the same. "Now Volkner," He chuckled, "you've got the _complete _wrong idea," I didn't move, my hand was still placed on the Pokéball. "Listen…I have an offer for you." The amusement in his tone was replaced with seriousness. Past him, I could see down the street, where four guards were coming this way; right for us. Gulping, fear started to course through me, and I imagined the worst thing that could start happening by imagining Rayne's beaten body and knife wound. Maybe I held the same fate.

"The offer," he continued, even though I was focused on the guards, "is to be one of us." The guards drew near, each of them grinning.

Breathlessly, I said: "What?! That's insane, I…" I didn't know what to say. Should I say no, to these obviously dangerous people? When they could physically convince me otherwise? But I couldn't say yes.

"You've got the mind for it," Jeck coaxed. "You proved it to me even more so when you went to grab your Pokéball there," he nodded to my hip, where Pikachu was attached to my clothes.

"We could make that Pokémon a battling _machine." _ The tall, dark skinned guard said, "You'll have tons of opportunities to catch better and stronger Pokémon, too."

"All of your amenities are fully paid for," Jeck spoke again, "boarding, food, clothing, and anything else you might need or want."

"You'll be trained to fight, with and without Pokémon." Another guard said, and his grin widened and turned a bit more sinister. "We'll bulk you up, too." I thought of Mason, and his muscular arms; that was the first thing I noticed about him. "You'll get to travel everywhere in Sinnoh, see the best of the best Sinnoh has to offer." They all looked at me, waiting for me to say something.

Admittedly, it was tempting. All the fear and anxiety inside of me was replaced with bubbling excitement. It seemed so _thrilling _and promising. The distraction of it all seemed amazing, as well; being able to focus whole-heartedly on training myself and my Pokémon would possibly be the greatest distraction for me right now. This town had nothing left for me, and they were offering me everything.

"Okay," I tried to sound convincing and strong, "I'll do it." They high-fived me and laughed victoriously.

"Let's get you to the compound, Volkner." Jeck said, and placed his arm around me again.

"Wait, shouldn't I go home?" He looked puzzled as he started leading me away.

"The compound _is _your home now." His tone seemed genuinely confused, but I could see that he was trying to trick me into thinking a certain way.

"My _old _home…To grab my stuff, maybe?"

"You won't need anything, that's the greatness of it!" Jeck proclaimed.

It then became incredibly clear to me that they weren't going to let me go home. "To say goodbye, then, to my family?"

"It's easier for everyone if you just leave." One of the guards said. "Trust us."

The excitement of the situation was starting to ebb. "I…I trust you…" I said it not as assurance to them, but to try to convince myself.

"Good, because there's no going back now."

* * *

Authors Note: There are a few things I didn't really like about this chapter, but after rereading and editing I think I've got it as good as I can get it! Except for the first paragraph or so when I use the word "done" way too much, but in a way I liked it too much. So my challenge to you is to use the word done way too much in your review. Heh.

JoHo: At least quote a decent band on my story! Psshhh, you silly.


	6. Callousen

_Chapter Five: Callousen_

_Welcome to the Shadows_

The only thing I could do was continue walking forward, and keep myself from thinking about this situation too much. I told myself that I had made the right decision; that wasting my days in Shore wasn't getting me anywhere, that pushing my family away was only making things worse—yet that's all I could do—and that no one would _really _miss me if I was gone. I would travel all over Sinnoh, I told myself; I would train myself and my Pokémon, and everything would be great.

Only being able to partially make myself okay with this, I still felt sick to my stomach. To get my mind off of it, thankfully, Jeck was telling me that we would first be going to a campsite on the outskirts of Shore, then we would proceed to the Veilstone Compound. And sure enough, soon we were at the campsite. I asked where the other compounds were located, and Jeck just grinned and said: "I'm sure you'll find out." Whatever that was supposed to mean, I'm not sure. Maybe he was trying to sound exciting, but it only made me feel worse. My face must have curled up; similarly to the way my stomach was curling, because one of the guards let out a weird snicker.

"Don't be so nervous, Kid," he spoke, "this life is the best life! If you're the type of person that regrets decisions right after he makes them, you better speak now."

Considering this, I opened my mouth to start to say that I was, in fact, one of those people; but when I started, Jeck quickly said: "He isn't, Carsen, don't worry." He patted my back hard.

"Good, 'cause if he was, I would've beaten it right out of him." The guard, Carsen, winked at me; but there was no sense of playfulness behind what he said. Gulping, I pressed my lips so hard together that my teeth started to make marks on the inside of my mouth. Eventually I sat on the ground, next to the fire one of the guards started. Carsen sat with me, but the others and Jeck stood a few feet away; speaking quietly to one another. Jeck smoked his cigar, a sight that I already knew was too common for him, and the other two guards stood straight and alert when speaking to him. Assumingly, Jeck must have had authority over them. I almost asked Carsen what Jeck's position in the guards was, but I was too afraid of saying the wrong thing and, well, being beaten.

They approached us, and Jeck finished his cigar. "We're going to pack up the remains of this camp, and get to the compound. The sooner we can get there, the better." The sun had already set, and it was getting late. Never having travelled to Veilstone, I didn't know how long it would take; but now wasn't the time to complain about getting a good night's rest. Besides, that was the least of my worries.

* * *

Clutching the backpack closer to my back, I entered into Veilstone. The walk wasn't very pleasant; trekking through mud pits caused by rainstorms, having to watch Carsen battle off Hoothoot—for no good reason, really—and listening to Jeck explain to me the rules of the compound, which wasn't that bad, except I kept zoning out due to exhaustion.

However, I did keep trying to remind myself of what he said, because from what I understood, the rules of the compound were fatally important.

The "Never Do's":

Never speak unless spoken to; in regards to anyone of authority above you. For new recruits, it's everyone except your fellow newbies; Level Two punishment.

Never let personal reasons affect you while working; Level Two punishment.

Never slack off; Level Two punishment.

Never leave the compound without a chaperone; Level Three punishment.

Never steal from one another; Level Three punishment.

Never get personally involved with commanders; Level Four punishment.

The "Always Do's":

Always do as you're told, when commanded by authorities; punishment may vary.

Always complete your training or other work given to you; punishment may vary.

Always speak to authorities with respect, and address them by their authoritative name: Commander, General, Chief; etcetera. As for the regular guards, address them by Sir or Ma'am or their preferred name. Addressing them such as "Guard Carsen" is only acceptable in some cases, and isn't recommended; punishment may vary.

Always go to bed on-time; the curfew for newbies is two a.m.—which doesn't seem like a curfew to me, but I wouldn't dare say that—punishment may vary.

The word "punishment" being brought up so many times made my stomach twinge. And every time Jeck stated what level the punishment was, one of the guards would chuckle or scoff or mutter something like: "You wish it was a Level Two punishment," and then laugh. The guards added a few things; telling me that it all depends on your commander as to what punishment you receive. And that it goes all the way up to Level Seven punishment; but anything above Four is forbidden for newbies and most guards. You have to get in a lot of trouble to get something above Level Four. Or you have to be of high authority to receive something above that level; and to give that high of a punishment.

What could a Level Seven be, then; I wondered if it was something as serious as being tortured until the brink of death. I hoped that maybe even Level Seven wasn't that serious, and the worst it could be was jail time. That was the worst punishment you got, wasn't it? If you were to murder someone or steal money or something very serious, they took you to jail. They didn't torture you until the brink of death.

At least that's what I hoped.

Veilstone was a weird city. There were drab-colors coating everything, and everything looked stained or dirty. Even the houses looked like they were abandoned; especially this late at night, when all the lights were off and the town's population was sleeping. The streets were wide, and all dirt streets except for a few that looped around the center of town. One of the guards mentioned "Main Street" and I assumed it was the long, paved road running through the middle of Veilstone. I looked down it and I saw some restaurants that were still open, a long row of shops that were closed but still displaying fancy things in the windows, and a large building, lit up with fluorescent lights. Anywhere else that flashy, tacky building would stand out like Miss Karp outside of an insane asylum. Even picturing it in Sunyshore didn't seem right, and there were streets upon streets and alleyways looping everywhere; with splashes of colors and streetlights that didn't give everything an eerie orange luminosity. But here, even in this colorless city, it somehow worked.

My exhaustion seemed to take a vacation, and a new burst of energy coursed through me. Of course, my eyelids still seemed heavy and I kept yawning profusely, but I could focus somewhat better. The perk of being tired was that I wasn't dreading this situation in the depth of my stomach anymore; I felt more indifferent and shrugged it off.

The guards and Jeck talked amongst themselves; I was hearing what they were saying, but I was taking no interest. Seemingly it was guard gossip. Who cares?

After walking through the entire city it seemed like, we reached a small port with boats docked at it. The waves were rough and loud; I closed my eyes, and it sounded like home. Not exactly, Sunyshore waves sounded a whole lot smoother and rhythmic; these weren't.

Past the docks, in the opposite direction of Route 215, we entered into a dark, colorless forest. As we walked, I could hear Hoohoot hooting desperately to each other and the leaves on the trees rustling as they fly away. It all sounded creepier in the dark, and a chill ran through me; a riveting chill, not a scared chill.

"I wonder why those things are still hanging around. Stupid birds." One of the guards chuckled.

"Yeah," Jeck replied, "you'd think they all would have been scared away at this point." I almost asked what they were talking about, but again: I didn't want to say the wrong thing.

The trees ended abruptly, revealing a large clearing housing a fenced-in warehouse-type building. The compound, no doubt. We approached the large, chain-link gate and I noticed two hefty guards standing outside of it. Why would there need to be _guards_, _guarding _a _guard _compound? Then I further examined the fence outlining the warehouse, and noticed barbed wire looping around the top, similarly to a prison.

Suddenly the dread in the depths of my stomach returned. I swallowed, trying to rid the dread, but it didn't work. My heart started to race, but I calmed it down hastily; desperate to try and make myself okay with this decision.

Was Perry right all the times he said that I was too immature to make decisions?

No. I would prove him wrong; besides, what choice did I have?

* * *

The first room in the compound was a huge training room. Different obstacle courses were setup throughout the room; along with weights and other workout gear. Honestly, it didn't look that intimidating. In a way, it relaxed me.

So many emotions flooded throughout me. I've never felt so many things in such a short time. At one moment I felt dread, the worst dread you could imagine, then I would be engulfed with sadness, then I would attempt to calm myself down, and feel slightly relaxed. It didn't make any sense. I blame exhaustion.

There were branching hallways towards the left; leading to multiple doors and two staircases. One leading upwards, the other down; the warehouse was _much _bigger than I thought. We went upstairs, leading to a hallway with four doors on each side, and a glass window at the end; looking over the training room.

Jeck turned to me and said: "This is where we part for now, Volkner."

My eyes widened. "What?! Jeck—Sir," I quickly tried to cover myself up, and he slightly smiled that curled, sinister smile, "I have no idea what I'm doing here!" I whispered. The other guards didn't come in with Jeck and I; they stayed outside at the fence.

Something flashed in his eyes—sympathy? Pity?—then it was gone. "Kid, you're gonna be _fine._" His slight smile turned into a grin, "Trust me." He put his arm around my shoulders, and I shuddered; the memory of him leading me away in the alleys rushed back to me. Why did that feel like so long ago? In a distant time and place? Wasn't it only a few hours ago? Or was it not? I had no idea.

He led me to the first door on the left and opened it. The light overhead was still on, but most of the bunk-beds lining the walls were occupied with sleeping people. Three guys sat on the floor, seemingly playing cards. "Jeck!" One of them said, then scrambled to his feet. "Is it two-a.m.? We had no idea! I—we—,"

"Oh shut up," there was humor in Jeck's tone, and the scrambly-guy relaxed and let out a puff of air. "This is Volkner," Jeck said loudly, startling some of the sleepers. Some lifted their heads to look at me, others just let out an annoyed grunt or ignored Jeck completely. "He's our new recruit from Sunyshore, like most of you…Right?"

"Yeah, sure," some of them mumbled.

"Whatever. I can't keep up with you _newbies." _

"But you're the one who recruited all of us!" Scrambly Guy said quickly; like on impulse.

"Was I speaking to you?" The humor left Jeck's tone, and Scrambly Guy bit his lip—hard. "_Anyway, _make room for Volkner. He's promising," he eyed the room, "unlike most of you." And with that, he spun around and left; slamming the door. One of the sleepers on a bottom bunk jerked up and slammed his head into the top. He yelped, and Scrambly Guy let out a hesitant puff of air; like that was all the laughing he could do. I didn't feel like I could even manage that much laughter, so I had to amend him.

"You okay?" He spoke to the sleeper with the possible concussion.

"Yeah," the word weakly slipped between his lips. He was tall; his feet hung off of the bed, but he was probably only Fyn's age. He rubbed his head then curled back under his thin blanket.

Scrambly Guy looked at me and shrugged. "This is his first night too; he's a little on-edge."

Nodding, I couldn't bring myself to say anything. Scrambly Guy stood there awkwardly, waiting for a response, but none came. "Well then." He cleared his throat. "Probably a good time for lights-out. It's surely past curfew by now, I'm surprised Jeck didn't—" He stopped talking when I walked by him and towards the only empty bunk bed, partially ignoring that he was there. I didn't feel like conversation with this straggly, scrambler, weird guy right now anyways. I climbed into the top bunk, and someone shut off the light; the room enclosing in darkness. I heard blankets and sheets move as people shifted in their bunks, and the sound of breathing and some slight snoring.

Even though there were many people around me, all breathing deeply and evenly as they slept; I had never felt more alone.

* * *

The room was awkwardly silent, except for the hushed words of nervous people trying to make conversation, or the robust laughter of the guards sitting at their own table. At my table, where I sat with all of my roommates, we were all very quiet; silently and hesitantly picking at our breakfast.

The dining room was large, and cluttered with long tables filled with large plates of various foods. Each table had a plate spilling over with Oran berries, one stacked with fresh, steaming bread rolls; and two filled with eggs. Pokémon eggs—scrambled, as I heard one of my roommates mutter—and sitting there for us to eat; I had helped myself to berries and bread, but I wasn't going to eat the yellow clumps that were seemingly staring at me, since one of the large plates was placed right in front of me. However, I wasn't the only one hesitant to eat the eggs at my table. In fact, only three people did. One seemed to be pleased with the eggs; probably had eaten them before, then the other two made weird faces and couldn't bring themselves to finish them.

One of them noticed some of us eyeing the egg eaters. "It's not terrible," he said; his voice sounding deep and drawly, not a Sunyshore accent, "but…It's odd. The taste is fine I reckon. It's not refreshing like berries, it's…Different." He shrugged, but didn't eat anymore.

Yeah, I stuck to my berries and honey-soaked bread. I looked around the room, there were quite a few tables feasting on the eggs. I noticed one group of guards all looking at our table, and one of them started our way from across the room. My instincts kicked in, "Guys," I addressed all of my roommates—all male, "start putting eggs on your plates."

They all started to say something objective. "_Do it,"_ the words were harsher than I intended, "we're the only ones not eating them and a guard is coming." Some of the people instantly starting dishing them out, then the others followed. I didn't look at the guard; I just scooped some yellow mush onto my plate.

The guard approached and cleared his throat. We looked up at him. "You better eat _all _of the food. There's, what, a dozen of you right here? You can finish all of that. You better eat up, lunch is six hours away and today is the first day of training," he paused, and then called us a bad name. It came out so forced, like he didn't truly want to say it, but he had to. He walked away.

"That would have been worse if I didn't say anything…" I muttered, trying to assure my roommates; but no one paid attention. Realizing that that was the first time I had spoken since being here, I felt weird. Like I shouldn't have spoken at all; I went all morning without speaking, I didn't need to now.

That morning had been a dreamlike blur; like all of yesterday. We were woken up by doors slamming and guards yelling at us to wake up, and to be in the dining hall in twenty minutes. There were two bathrooms in our hallway, each housing four showers, so all of us were in-and-out quickly so we could get to the dining room on time. As we stood in line in the hall, we were handed raggedy towels and…Our uniforms.

The gold puffy pants weren't my style, but admittedly they were _very _comfortable and obviously made for swift movements. Although I had to pull the drawstring and tie it tightly around me, since they were too big. And the white shirt hung loosely on me, like most of the "newbies"—as I heard one of the guards refer us as—and one of the guards told us that we would grow into them. Assumingly he meant we would gain muscle; I wouldn't complain about that.

After our rushed showers, we were ushered into the dining room. A large group of _newbies _were already seated at tables, and the guards ushering us made noises of disappointment. "Tomorrow, we'll get you up even earlier since you fools take so long." One of them threatened. I'm not sure what time it was, or what time I eventually fell asleep, but I felt rested enough. Anyone who was jolted awake by someone yelling at them, however, wouldn't feel drowsy afterwards.

Poking at my eggs, I had to force myself to bring them up to my lips and choke them down. I had never tasted anything like it before. Plus the idea that I was eating _Pokémon eggs _made my sick to my stomach. I forked down a large bit of eggs and swallowed them without chewing; some of it came back up in my mouth, tasting even worse than previously discovered, and I swallowed all that down, too. No wonder my mom preferred the vegetarian lifestyle. I washed my mouth out with the water that was provided.

"Does anyone else think the eggs are dreadful?" Scrambly Guy looked like he was going to be sick. Some of the people agreed, and he looked like he was holding back a cough. "I suppose it's the thought, right? The mental thought of eating…" He covered his mouth with his hand.

No one replied, and we noticed that people at the other tables were standing and walking down a hallway. We quickly jumped up and followed down the hall that led into the training room. Even now, when I knew I was about to partake in training in here, it didn't look intimidating. A rush of excitement swelled inside of me. A feeling of guilt quickly followed; was I really excited for this? When I left my family behind, and I should hate it here?

Pushing the guilt away, I told myself: _This is good, don't feel guilty. _

All of us stood in a large group; facing a smaller group of guards. One of them stepped closer to us, and eyed the group of newbies. "Today is Day One. All of you should be familiar with the do's and don'ts. But let me get some things straight…" His look was intimidating; I hoped his eyes would never meet mine. "We call ourselves The Callousen, we work for Champion Lea. He is the _head of command. _We don't talk bad about Our Champion, we only speak of his goodness. He gave us _all_ a new life; a second chance. We are everlastingly grateful, and we show that through our work, which in turn means the punishments are harsh and the work is tough," he paused, and a smirk pulled up on his lips. "This compound is nicknamed the Shadows because you _newbies _go through a…Shadowy period, as we guards call it." Some of them laughed. "So…"

"Welcome to the Shadows."

* * *

**Authors Note: **Firstly, I want to thank you all for all the positive feedback! I think this is my first story where all the reviews are so positive and people are really enjoying this story. Secondly, I honestly don't have the Callousen all figured out (example: what all the recruits have to do to earn the title of an official guard) so any suggestions or ideas you might have; I'd love to hear them! I usually don't ask for stuff like that, and it's weird to me, so I might not use any suggestions, but who knows. That being said, let me know what you think about the guards and the interworking's of the Callousen.

Thirdly, I wrote a story called "Snake Eyes," which is completed, that tells of Champion Lea's backstory and how/why he became Champion. Check it out if you haven't, it's my favorite thing that I've written so far!

Lastly, thanks for reading!


	7. Promising

_Chapter Six: Promising_

_Welcome to the Shadows_

Training wasn't easy. We were thrown into work after being separated into four large groups, with two commanders leading each group. Two of the groups went to each obstacle course, another went to the workout equipment and ropes, and the last went to the rock climbing wall that covered the right wall. My group was at one of the obstacle courses. There were short walls outlining it, and inside I saw different things to climb or jump over. The goal was to get through it as quickly as possible. I was one of the firsts. Three people ran through it before me, and they came out of the other side looking winded, but unharmed. Then it was my turn.

Sprinting, I entered the obstacle course. The first thing was a hanging hoop to dive through; I did that effortlessly and landed on padding on the ground. Then I was on my feet, and running towards a large series of poles. Quickly I weaved myself through it, only once banging my shoulder against one of the metal poles. Next I was faced with a large rope wall; I easily climbed up and over, dropping to my feet when I got halfway down. I stumbled, but caught myself on the ropes. Turning around, I noticed a large pit in the floor and Mankey bars, as we called them on the playground during my childhood, going across it. Not wanting to waste time, I sprinted and leapt up. I latched onto the metal bars, already my fingers were hurting from it, and one by one I made my way across. That was the end of the obstacle course, and I jogged my way to the back of the line.

After everyone went through it twice, Commander Carsen announced that when someone took longer than three minutes to complete the course, everyone in line had to do ten pushups. _Bring it on, _I thought; but almost everyone took longer than three minutes. Including myself; even on my third, fourth and fifth try.

After everyone went five times, we switched with the workout group and began using workout equipment. We all switched from weights, to rope climbing, to simply doing leg-lifts, wall sits, and more pushups at the guards command.

My body felt exhausted, and my legs felt like mashed berries. Heaving myself up the rope was more difficult than I'd like to admit, but it was a bit easier after multiple pushups. After climbing that rope in its entirety, I did feel accomplished and, well, proud of myself. Luckily, next was the other obstacle course. This time I let myself slip into the middle of the line, so I had more of a break before it was my turn. This obstacle course housed three-foot walls to climb over, a section of chain-link you had to army crawl under, and at the end: Another pit, this time, with rings to cross over. My first try I made it without too much struggle; but the second time, my fingers ached on the rings, and I slipped into the pit. Knowing I would have to make my fellow recruits do pushups, I quickly composed myself and ran to one of the walls on the pit. I felt around: Pegs, there were pegs on the pit walls. I tried to get footing on one, but it wasn't easy. After two failed tries, I finally made my way up the wall and out of the obstacle course. My next three tries were more successful.

The last thing was rock climbing. We were all exhausted, and climbing the wall was nearly impossible. We only climbed up once each before it was lunchtime; since we took so long to climb.

Sitting at the lunch table, I felt like I could both throw up and climb Mt. Coronet. Even though I was so tired, and my body felt the weakest it had _ever _felt—it also felt _good; _in such a weird way. My muscles felt empowered and _strong, _for the first time in my life.

Believe it or not, after we ate, I was excited for more.

All of us were ushered through the backyard, to a large section of land outlined by fences. It housed a Pokémon battlefield, and my heart picked up at the thought of battling and training.

"No Pokémon training yet, but we'll use this area for now. Four laps around the compound; last one to return has to do suicides across the battle area. Go!" Quickly everyone stumbled into a sprint around the compound. At first I was in the middle, but after a lap I had fallen back a ways. After another lap, I was able to maintain my spot, but I didn't know how I could run for another two laps. My legs just _couldn't. _The compound was huge as it is. My breath was heavy, and I knew I was about to collapse.

"Come on guys! We can do this!" The guy running beside me yelled. I looked over at him, he was as breathless as I was; yet he began to pick up speed. I copied him, and put my focus not on my lack of air, or my legs, or the stabbing pain in my side; but to keeping up with him, and before I knew it, the four laps were over.

The last person, being Scrambly Guy, did in fact do suicides; all of us had to watch while doing sit-ups. My stomach burned and I could feel the weight of the food dwelling in there. I tried to focus on Scrambly Guy, who was breathless and stumbling along as the commanders yelled at him. He had to do four sets, and by the third, he collapsed. I stopped doing my sit-ups to gawk at him. Commander Carsen walked over to him and touched his shoulder gently. Then Commander Chase stomped over, basically pushed passed Carsen, and grabbed Scrambly Guy's arms. He pulled him up and turned him around all in one motion; I saw a flicker of Scrambly Guy's eyes. "_Get up," _the words rumbled in Chase's chest then slid harshly between his teeth. Fear crossed Scrambly Guy's face as he opened his eyes as much as he could. He started to stand, but then slumped back down. Carsen quickly grabbed him, and helped him to his feet. Chase stood; his face was screwed up into a horrendously angry face with his furry brows ruffled, forehead creased into a thousand wrinkles, large square chin pushing up his fat lips into his scrunched nose; he opened his mouth, prepared to scream.

"No, Chase," Carsen said; without looking at his fellow commander. There was some warning in his tone, and Chase frowned even harder; his face screwing up even more. He didn't say anything, but stared daggers at Carsen as he helped the newbie over to the sidelines.

"Did I _say stop?!" _Chase screamed at us, his face reddening as he did. I forgot that we were supposed to be doing sit-ups, as did everyone else around me, and we hurriedly started again.

Afterwards, we were ushered back inside to the training room. My head, stomach and legs ached. I slightly limped, just because my legs had a hard time carrying the weight of my body. "Sit down," Chase commanded. We did, and I'm glad we did, because as I sat my legs gave out and I landed hard on my butt. Taking a breath of relief, I tried to focus on him.

"That's enough for Day One, Newbies. You have free reign of the compound for the rest of the evening—except you're not allowed downstairs, or through any locked doors. And for now, it also means outside. We _encourage you"—_apparently he forced the words out—"to use this time wisely in the training room. Tomorrow, we pick things up and go a little harder." He smirked, and then eyed us down. "When dinner is announced, we _all _meet into the hall right away. Tardiness to meals is punishable." He cleared his throat before walking away. We looked around, slightly confused, but then some of us started to get up. I didn't, for fear of my legs; why would I? What would I possibly do? Going back to my room and lying down seemed like a good option, but then the thought crossed my mind that that would appear as weakness.

Seemingly, I wasn't the only one confused as to what to do. Small groupings of people would gather around and awkwardly talk to each other. One group was filled with small, lanky _kids. _Thirteen or fourteen, I assumed. One of them I recognized as Fyn and I's classmate from Shore; another one looked similar, too—maybe they were both classmates. It probably would have been a good idea to pay better attention in school.

Still, they were too young to be here. My two probable classmates wore glasses, just like Fyn—glasses that fit awkwardly on their faces, just like Fyn—they were blonde and small and _delicate_, just like Fyn—then I had to look away and swallow the lump in my throat. The thought of Fyn being here made me sick, and the thought of me being away from Fyn made me worse. Who was protecting Fyn now?

You never realize how important your presence in another person's life is, until you're no longer present.

_Perry, _I told myself, _Perry has Fyn's back. Of course, not the way I did in Trainer School, where no bully would mess with him because they knew they would have to go through _me, _the oldest in the class. And not the way I did, where I could sneakily give him advice—sometimes by not even saying anything. _Even I couldn't deny Fyn's trust in me. He told me everything, as he always did. It was just second nature. He wouldn't do that with Perry, would he? Perry is too much of a fatherly figure to be trusted in a brotherly way.

But I couldn't let myself think about it. Already I knew that if I truly let myself feel regret about leaving, I wouldn't be able to bear it.

Did I regret it? I didn't allow myself to answer that.

The group of Fyn's started walking towards the hall that leads to the rooms. For some reason, that made me feel relieved; possibly because, in the back of my mind, I knew that they'd be safe up there, far enough away from us and the guards.

Another group was filled with five unrecognizable guys. They were taller, more built, and looked older than myself. They _looked _like they would band together, I thought; they all had dark hair, similar structures and in their uniforms they looked as if they could be brothers. Assumingly they weren't from Shore, I would be able to spot a Shore citizen—or at least I hoped I could. They spoke quietly, but then they laughed hard. The group of Commanders—Carsen, Chase, and the three others who escorted Jeck and I here—turned to raise eyebrows at them. The group grinned and walked over to the two ropes that hung from the ceiling. They began climbing effortlessly; racing one another. I rolled my eyes at them, they were acting like the guards too much—acting like tools.

"They've been here for a week," I looked towards my right. I didn't realize that only about two feet away sat some guy that I recognized from my table this morning, and playing cards with Scrambly Guy last night.

"Yeah?" was all I replied.

"Yeah," he echoed, and nodded. "They were part of the first group of this round of recruiting. I was the second—or third? I can't remember—and they've been like this for the whole week. Even though today was the official first day of training, they've been training all week. Running through the obstacle courses, climbing those ropes, even sprinting outside, and they've even become buddies with Commander Chase and some of the others. You see, Commander Chase didn't go out recruiting like some of the guards did—there are about twenty guards living here at the compound right now—he was one that stayed here to keep an eye on all the _newbies,_ so people like them"—he nodded towards the climbers—"were able to get the upper-hand."

Clearing my throat, I spoke: "Good for them? That's a cool story and all, but how does that apply to me?"

He shook his head, and never looked me in the eyes, "I've heard rumors, man. I've been here for five days—I think? Feels like an eternity—and the word and gossip carries around this compound like Beedrill carry pollen." He sniffed, then continued: "The rumors say that there's acertain…Rank, for lack of a better word," he kept his eyes on the other guys, "and it's bad news bears for the people on the low end of that rank. People like those—those—"

"Tool benches?" I offered.

"Tool benches," he agreed, "are going to be hard to beat. This _rank, _apparently, means that you qualify to join the Callousen. If you're on the needed skill level, mentally and physically, you join…If not…"

"What happens?" I spoke quickly; getting caught up in this conversation.

"I've got no idea."

"How do we know if we're able to qualify? And _when _would we know?" Realizing how caught up I was—to the point of my body stiffening up—I relaxed and gulped. I let my guard down; I was weak.

He took a deep breath. "Maybe we don't? Maybe that's something the commanders keep to themselves, and then just pick us off as we fall out of qualification, until there's a promising group leftover?" He shrugged, and I copied. He looked at me. "Owen."

"Volkner." I muttered. For some reason, saying my name here—in this place—seemed wrong; like I didn't want people to know me, I didn't want to build a friendship, which would make this all-too real.

"Volkner," he repeated, "I was there when you told us to eat the eggs this morning. I guess I owe you a thank you."

"You don't," I came across harsh, "it was nothing." Now _I_ looked away.

"Then I retract my thanks," he slightly laughed. "Where are you from?"

Hesitantly, I said: "Sunyshore…And you?"

"Eterna, practically across the region from Sunyshore, huh?" I nodded, and thought of the Sinnoh map. Practically across was correct. He leaned back on his palms.

"Since you've been here a week," I inquired, "what do we do with our free time like this?"

He managed a shrug while sitting in his comfortable position. "All I've really done is stuff in this training room—not as obsessively and definitely _not _with instructions from commanders like the tool benches—and try to know the compound, talk to people, learn things…Know what I've…What I've gotten myself into…"

"What other rooms are there? Here in the compound?"

He sighed, "Well, of course there's this room, the dining hall, the hallways upstairs with the rooms and bathrooms; then there's that branching hallway from the dining room, leading to a large kitchen, pantry, storage room, and this little break room for the cooks. I spoke to some of them, trying to get dirt on the compound. Strangely enough, they're all new here. They were all employed right before the recruits started showing up. They live here in Veilstone, so I asked what people outside knew about the compound, and they said that most people don't even know it's here on the outskirt of their town." He shrugged. "I also asked if they knew of anyone else who was employed as a chef here, and they said they never heard of anyone working here, and that they would because chefs of the restaurants in town keep up with each other. Isn't that odd?" I agreed. "And on the other side," he pointed directly across from our hallway leading upstairs to one parallel to it, "is where more recruits stay. Their rooms and baths, you know. That's all I've gathered about rooms here. I heard that there are three stories, all housing bedrooms and offices and, really, anything else. And there's a large basement, so I hear, that's restricted access. Once you go down a staircase, you meet a steel wall where you must have a certain keycard to get in. That's the same with a lot of the rooms on the top floor and rooms randomly throughout the compound."

"You sneaky, sneaky boy you." I said, and he laughed.

"Well, it's what I do. I like to know everything that I can, especially about situations like this. I like to familiarize myself with as much as possible, and try to be ahead of the game. That causes fewer surprises."

"Owen, I hate to break it to you, but I have a strong feeling we're _all _going to be surprised; no matter what."

"Volkner," he mimicked me, "I hate to break it to you, but I have a feeling you're right…And that's terrifying."

* * *

The rest of the evening was spent wandering around the compound. Owen and I decided to run through the obstacle course a bit; practicing more and more. After, Scrambly Guy was released from the infirmary, and Owen wanted to see him. We walked with him up to the dorm room, where he sat on his top bunk. He told us that he passed out, and that he can't believe he did that. He was still a bit breathless as he spoke. They knew each other, Owen and Scrambly Guy—Seth—from Eterna, where they were neighbors. Not the greatest of friends back home, they said, but they knew of each other; and apparently that was enough to be best friends in the Callousen. It made sense, because even though I hated to admit it, I felt dreadfully alone before Owen, and somewhere inside me I knew seeing a familiar face would be comforting.

Seth admitted to dealing with breathing problems, but still thinks he can do better. Owen seemed genuinely concerned about him, and gave me a cautious look. We were thinking the same thing: He wouldn't reach qualifications. Owen assured him that he could get better, and this was just the first day; everyone was out of shape. Seth grinned, and patted Owen's shoulder. They announced that they were going to play cards, and invited me to join them and the others that had entered the room; but I declined.

Making my way back downstairs, the commanders had gathered at a table in the dining hall. I stopped just short of the doorway, hoping they couldn't see me. I heard them talking about something: The competition. From what I understood, the two groups from the two "wings" of the compound were competing against each other. Half the commanders were responsible for one of the "teams," and half were responsible for the other.

After hearing this, I shot back up to the dorm. "You guys," I said, addressing my roommates. They all looked up at me.

"What is it, Promising Guy?" One of them said. I started to speak, but then stopped and gave him a weird look.

_"Promising Guy?" _I echoed.

He made a face, like it was perfectly obvious. "It's what we call you. Your nickname, 'Promising Guy,'" he made a big motion in the air, to make it even more dramatic, "since Jeck called you _promising_ when he introduced you." I squinted at him, and opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn't; so I just stood there squinting with my mouth open. He shrugged. "At least it's not Unpromising Guy."

"_Anyways, _I just heard the commanders speaking downstairs. You know the newbies that sleeps on the other side of the compound, who were always in different groups than us, who ate on the opposite side of the dining hall?" Some of them nodded. "We're _against _them. The eight commanders are split, four of them are in charge of us, and the other four are in charge of them."

Seth stood up. "Wait, what does that mean?"

Shrugging, I said: "I've got no idea. So we should keep our guard up…No pun intended, and keep this in mind."

"And _why? _Sounds like a waste of my time to worry about these stupid little conspiracy theories." Someone said. His tone was annoying, to say the least.

"Because maybe we'll need that kind of information," I said.

"For what?" One of the Fyn's said.

Owen stood up next to Seth. "I think we can all agree this place is a little more intimidating than we thought. Having an understanding of…This place, can be detrimental to…Well, our survival."

Seth started to speak, but the door swung open and rammed into me; knocking me off balance and into the wall. It was Commander Carsen: "Dinner's almost ready Newbies, let's go. No longer than twenty seconds." Everyone was up on their feet and out the door. I quickly followed; Owen and Seth waited in the back of the group for me.

The dining hall—admittedly—smelled amazing. Even though I knew I smelled Pokémon meat, it still made me take a large breath. We sat at the same table we sat at for lunch and breakfast, as did everyone else. This time, there was a plate filled with long, green pole-like vegetables, one with steaming bread, another with potallion berries, or more casually known as potatoes—hybrid potatoes, what are ya gonna do?

And then the last dish: Starly. There were two cooked Starly bodies on our table. We all looked at each other, making faces, but we picked off the meat and put it on our plates. Honestly it didn't taste awful. It was juicy and soft; and I hated myself for enjoying it even in the slightest. The images of the little Starly, with their big bright eyes and delicate-looking wings, filled my mind and made me sick. I downed my water quickly after that one.

We were dismissed from the dining hall, after being told to clean up our tables. We had to clear them of all the leftover plates from the day and wipe them down with soapy water. "This isn't the job of a guard," someone muttered, and Commander Chase grabbed him by the shoulder.

"It's the job for a _newbie; _you're not an official guard yet, punk." He shoved the recruit, then sulked off. I saw some of the newbies eye one another as they worked. They were becoming more and more alarmed, I think.

But we would get used to this. It's just Day One. We would get into the flow of things, and everything would even out. That's how life works, right?

_No, _I thought, _It's not…But I better keep trying to convince myself that it is._

* * *

**Authors Note:** Yo! Prepare yourselves, because I have a lot to say:

Firstly, sorry for the week-late update. I unofficially had been updating every Wednesday, sometimes even twice a week at the beginning of this story, and I skipped last week because I was on vacation. It was amazingly fun and I had no time to write or prepare this chapter for updating. Plus I had horrible internet. I know I must have ruined your week by not giving you some Volkner antics and sarcasm, and you all missed me so much, but stop your tears because I have returned. The weekly updates will hopefully continue, but I must admit that I'm having lots of writers block, since I'm striving to make this story really great and not to ruin everyone's intentions. Since I understand that this story has already gone in a different, and possibly darker, direction than what you may have expected.

That being said, this story isn't going to be only about Volkner's Callousen journey. He's not going to be in it forever (spoiler alert? Nah) and eventually does start training. This story will go through that as well. Plus, in my opinion this part of the story is pretty boring (probably why I have writers block) and it won't be this boring and tedious for too much longer, I assure you!

Some of you may have noticed that Cynthia has been added to the character list. I have in fact decided to write this story through the events of TCB! I thought about it and decided that seeing events of TCB through Volkner's POV would be really cool and interesting and I'm excited for it! It will only be certain events, however, and there will be time-jumps when necessary-But i think you all will really enjoy that. Thoughts?

Anyways! Thanks for reading all that, and I certainly hope you all liked this chapter. I understand it seemed rushed in a lot of parts, and I'm going to try to make chapters longer from now on, but nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed. This is probably my weakest chapter yet, and I assure you this isn't how it's always going to be. Haha.

Thank you again!


	8. Tolerance

_Chapter Seven: Tolerance_

_Welcome to the Shadows_

The next day was fairly similar to the first. This time all the commanders were continuously yelling instructions at us, and getting more involved. Commander Days and Carsen were our commanders, and they weren't as forceful as the others. Commander Chase's group was constantly being thrown into pushups or sit-ups. Owen was in his group, but luckily not Seth—he was in mine. I kept an eye on him. He was pushing himself through the obstacle courses and up the ropes and rock wall, looking pale and breathing heavily, but he was doing better. When lunch came, we all needed that break.

More Starly and Oran berries. The Oran berries were good for perking you up, and by the time we went outside for running, we were ready to go. The four laps were just as difficult, and both of my sides ached like knives were shoved into them, but we made it through. This time, the last_ two_ people had to do the suicides. Seth had trucked a little bit harder, and it paid off since he wasn't one of the last people. They were two Fyn's. They made it through, both of them slowing down to a walk and the commanders would scream at them to run again; but they finished, and we went back into the training room. They announced that we would get a short break, and then we would meet up back in here. Owen, Seth and I sat on the padded floor of the training room in silence. We were all too exhausted to speak. We were woken up even earlier this morning, our commanders desperate for us to get to the dining hall before the others—and we successfully did. I almost asked them why they wanted that, but like everyone else, I knew: Never speak unless spoken to.

This proved the point that the two sides of the compound were against each other. But why? Why did it matter, and what did that mean for the losing side?

While waiting in line for the obstacle courses, I made sure to take a long look around. Each group was made up of various people; we all seemed to be on the same level as a group. And that made me feel relieved. The two groups that were from the other side of the compound didn't seem too much better, but one of them housed The Tool Benches. They were climbing up and down the ropes like it was no problem. Sighing, I had to look away. I didn't know what the qualification or the competition was all about, and that scared me more than I would like to admit.

Our break was short-lived, and the group of eight commanders was back in the training room, summoning all the recruits. "Stand up," Days announced, "Day Two is another day of tolerance, but tomorrow isn't. Tomorrow is the first day punishments are ensued. Admittedly, most of you have been doing a good job, but some of you better be prepared for consequences. Frankly, I'm talking about Commander Reg and Hayden's training group." We looked around, trying to see someone from that group. "You all put up a fight in training, but keep _picking fights_ with each other in your dorms, and that's just annoying."

"Days," one of the commanders stepped up, "since when is that a problem? Them fighting amongst themselves is none of our concern."

"Commander Reg, everything the recruits do is our concern. Until they're Officials, we do everything we can to mold them."

"Mold us?" Someone in the crowd spoke up, and I realized it was Seth. Within the confines of the crowd, no one noticed it was he who spoke out of line.

Days nodded. "Yeah. You will understand with time."

"_Were _you spoken to?!" Commander Reg yelled to the crowd, and scanned it for the culprit. "You're lucky today is the last day of tolerance."

Commander Days cleared his throat loudly. "That being said, tomorrow is also the first day of new training. Not with Pokémon, yet. You will train to be a fighter. You will start to learn your strengths and weaknesses, and we commanders will take note of them as well. That will help us place you for jobs once you're all Officials. As for now, we're going to have some fun." A grin spread across his face; one that made a feeling pit in my stomach. I gulped, expecting to feel nervousness—but I felt excitement. The genuine grin on his face, not a sinister one that Jeck would sport, made me excited. I looked at Seth and Owen, and they looked back at me with the same, unsure look on their faces. I shrugged, and stood up with the rest of the recruits.

We were led downstairs. The slim, spiral staircase winded down to a small, dark hallway. We were approached with a large metal door that slid open when Commander Days used his keycard. The door revealed a long, straight hallway with many doors. We went to the first door, another door only accessible with a keycard, and all of us were waved in by Days.

The room was huge, all black except for glowing spots covering the walls and ceiling, and there were obstacles and dividers everywhere. The commanders gathered in front us; Days, Carsen and Chase, and they looked at us, with those grins still planted on their faces. They each held up what looked like guns, but then they pulled the trigger and a laser shot out and bounced off the ceiling, smashing back into a divider. People in the crowd of recruits let out noises of excitement, and Days said: "Alright! We're gonna have some fun. Each of you will get a gun, and each of you will be separated into three teams. One for each of us," he nodded to his fellow commanders, "and then the game will begin. The lasers don't actually hurt, but they do, as you saw, bounce off of other objects once, so be sure to pay attention. If you get hit once, you're out. Last team standing wins, first team out has to clean the compound tomorrow after training." He chuckled. "I'll pick my team first." They chose until the teams were filled. I was on a team with some Fyn's, Seth and random recruits. Chase chose all the Tool Benches and any other older or stronger-looking guys, and Carsen was stuck with the rest of the Fyn's and Owen. They handed us each a gun, and then the next thing I knew, Carsen yelled "Game on!" and lasers were flying everywhere.

I ducked and sprinted towards the obstacles to take cover. Kneeling behind a half-wall, a few of my teammates crowded around me. Some poked their heads up and started shooting, after gaining some courage I did the same. The lasers shot out of the gun quickly, and it surprised me. I saw one of my opponents point their gun in my direction so I quickly ducked back down. Knowing that this spot, crouched behind this half-wall with like five other people, wouldn't get me anywhere; I sprinted towards a doorway. Through the doorway, I realized I had entered into a maze. "Crap!" I muttered, then a laser shot past my head. I spun around and started moving backwards; Owen, with a grin planted on his face, had his laser gun pointed at me. I matched his grin, then turned back around and darted into the maze.

"Volkner!" I heard him call, followed by laughter. I laughed, too, and ran as hard as I could and in a random fashion. Eventually, I rounded a corner and almost ran right into a Tool Bench. Before he could react, I shot a laser right on his stomach.

"What!" he yelled, "That's not fair!"

"Gotta go!" I ran past him and around another corner, and I heard other running footsteps. Someone was close. I stood, ready, and waited for someone to round a corner until…

Days, my team captain, came around and quickly shot a laser at me. It hit me right on the face, surprisingly not hurting at all, and then he let out a breath of relief. "Sorry about that, you're not out, don't worry." He walked up to me and clamped his hand on my shoulder. "I just cleared everyone in the maze. Chase's team is almost done, Carsen still has some guys out there—a lot of hiders, no fighters let me say—and then we still have a good number. Game on." He grinned, winked, and ran past me. I sprinted around the corner and saw the exit to the maze. I ran out and to the nearest divider. An opponent was crouching and hiding, he saw me, gasped, and quickly hit the trigger and a bunch of lasers bounced out and off the walls and ceiling. I dodged a few, then shot him. I got behind the divider, and felt a hand hit my shoulder. I flinched, and brought the gun around and almost hit Seth in the face. He chuckled at me, saying: "Owen is still out there, and he's been trying to get me almost this whole time!"

"How many people are left?"

"Not a lot, the commanders have been taking people out left and right. Nobody knows what they're doing except them." Lasers bounced around us, and we looked at each other. "You take the right side, I got left. Go!" I jumped out and began shooting. The lasers for my team were colored blue, the other two were red and yellow. Two Fyn's shot at us, but we eventually got both of them. Then the two of us went back into the maze.

We were looping through and came to a dead end. Swiftly we turned on our heels to go back and try to find the right path. I heard another set of footsteps and motioned to Seth to stop. The other footsteps stopped as well, and it sounded like they were right on the other side of the seven-foot wall. I took a step back and shot a few lasers towards the ceiling. They bounced off and down on the other side of the wall. "Hey!" Someone yelled.

"Owen?! No way!" Seth laughed.

"Dang it! I thought I had you guys! Who shot me?!"

"It was all Volkner, Buddy. Sorry, we have some butt to go kick!" Seth started sprinting again, and I was on his tail. We looped out of the maze and back to the main area. The commanders and some others were all ducking behind walls and shooting. Lasers were bouncing everywhere, and I got hit once or twice but all by my own team colors.

We quickly got behind a divider and shot off a few shots, hoping to hit someone. Then Commander Chase summersaulted behind our divider, while Seth and I were both shooting at Carsen, and got us both out. At first we made noises of aggravation, but as we walked towards the large group of recruits that had already gotten out, we were grinning and high-fiving each other. We were in the final ten; that was something.

After watching the commander's finish off the few remaining recruits, we watched them battle it out. In the end, Carsen was victorious.

"Alright, the first team out was, unfortunately, Chase's team. Have fun cleaning tomorrow. And the winning team was Carsen's team." Days started applauding, and we joined in.

As we walked back upstairs, all the recruits were laughing and retelling things that had happened while in-game. It was nice to all feel united with these people who were obviously in the same boat I was in. No one knew what to expect out of this experience, and I'm pretty sure we all joined in similar ways: all on a limb; suddenly, and nonsensical.

But I guess it made sense, because I was one of them, and we were the same—and on our way to being guards.

When we were back in our room, after most of us took a shower, Seth and Owen started another mass card game. This time I joined in, and I was actually enjoying myself. That night when I lay in my bunk, for the first time I didn't have any doubts about this choice. _Maybe this won't be so bad._

* * *

They weren't kidding when they said that tolerance was over. The next day the commanders were even sterner than usual—who knew that was possible—and they were constantly yelling at us recruits for basically everything. I heard "Tolerance is _over, _step it up!" so many times that it echoed throughout my mind for the rest of the day.

We skipped the obstacle courses and went right to sprints then workout equipment. I was okay with this; the repetitiveness of the obstacle courses had gotten old, and waiting in line doing push-ups wasn't my favorite thing in the world.

Since being in The Callousen I've been continuously sore. Today, however, the soreness felt _great _and I felt empowered. As much as I hate to admit it, I felt like the meat I was eating was actually helping with this, too. It's still disgusting and a horrible thought, but in all honesty, it was protein and a power food.

After lunch, we were taken back downstairs and introduced to a new room: The Combat Room. It was set up in stations, like the training room, and throughout the middle it housed large mats; undoubtedly where we would practice on each other. I noted a knife throwing station, a punching bag station, a station which simply housed swords, and a gun shooting station. The whole sight was a bit overwhelming honestly. When I first arrived and saw the training room I thought the complete opposite; but this room was nothing if not intimidating. The eerie fluorescent basement lighting that only lit up the weapons, targets and combat mats; the low-ceilings; black and red painted walls; all that combined added up to quite the amount of intimidation.

A few commanders took turns explaining some things to us. Firstly, the guns are only used by commanders and we will not practice with them _at all. _Secondly,if you disobey authority while in the combat room, be prepared for a high-level punishment. Lastly, when you're fighting your opponent, you shouldn't go easy on them—no matter what. You're fighting to honor Champion Lea, and you show that through your determination and by fighting your best.

We were separated into our all-too familiar groups. My group started at knife throwing. Commander Carsen started instructing us: "These knives are known as blade-heavy knives. Self-explanatory. They're the best for beginners such as you. Now, find your target line," we did as he said and faced our targets, "take two steps backwards, and turn so your weak side faces the target. For you right-handed people, that would be your left side, and vice versa." I took two steps backwards, turned so my left side was facing the target, and waited my next instruction. "Now hold the knife like this," he held his hand up and showed us. His thumb was on one side, and all of his fingers were on the other; holding the knife vertically. I copied. "Bring it back carefully, and then—" he swiftly pulled his arm back, then flicked the knife forward while shifted his weight to his weak side, and stepping into the throw at the end. The knife tumbled blade-over-handle until it smashed into the target. Not a bull's-eye, but not a terrible shot. "You can either toss it like that, or simply by facing the target. Personally I acquire more power in my throw the way I do it, but it's your call." He shrugged, and waited for us to begin. A few people started throwing knives. Most of them didn't even reach the target, but some of the crashed past them—missing by more than a foot.

Holding the knife the way I was told, it felt unsteady in my grip. My hand was positioned awkwardly, but I assumed I would get used to it. I started to quickly shift my weight to my weak side, step a little and then I let it slip out of my fingers. The knife wobbled through the air, missed the target, and weakly fell to the ground. I got another knife. This time I faced the target, because I thought that the hesitance I felt to bring the knife across my body would slow me down, and facing the target I would have nothing to stop me. So I threw it, and there was definitely more power in my toss, but I missed the target by even more. But I nodded, because at least I knew how to improve.

Although I didn't improve; by the time we were done I hadn't hit the target once. In fact I was certain I had gotten worse. Knife throwing wasn't my specialty.

Next, we were all partnered up and placed at a punching bag. Days taught us the correct way to throw a punch. We began punching, and it was more difficult than I expected; I assumed it would be easy to just simply punch a bag, but it wasn't.

Someone let out a cry of pain, and Days was quickly at their side. "All-too common mistake: pointing your thumb outward. Make sure it's curled around your knuckles tightly."

After me and my partner were done, we were ushered to the next section: Swords. We were simply taught the correct way to hold and swing the long blade, and that was all. Days and Carsen told us we, unfortunately, wouldn't learn to swordfight. I was disappointed, because I liked the swift movements of the blade and I knew I would be good at it; but oh well.

We all gathered as a large group again. "That's enough combat for today. We'll let you have free reign of this room, to practice whatever you please, but afterwards we're going back upstairs for the night." Chase announced. "That was just the introductory. Tomorrow we begin _training. _We'll push you to your limits, and then we'll end the day by you finally fighting each other. Be prepared for a long day, Newbies, and I suggest you get to practice."

Owen, Seth and I stood around a punching bag taking turns. We didn't say much; only briefly talked about how difficult fighting would be, and how the commanders are much harsher now that the days of tolerance are over. Owen said that a few people in his group were talking about how they were slapped in their dorms, because one of them mouthed-off to Commander Reg.

"There are rumors about these punishments, man," Owen said and shook his head, "they can be brutal. At first, they're slaps on the face or little punches to the shoulders or being shoved around. But they can turn into serious things. Officials who get in trouble are _seriously _punished." Seth had stopped punching to listen to Owen. "Apparently, this one guard who lived in this compound a while ago decided to play an epic prank on Commander Reg, and expertly framed a group of recruits. Commander Reg _flipped _and _whipped _the group of recruits. The other commanders weren't totally pleased with it, and they_ knew _it couldn't have been the recruits, so they eventually found the real culprit. Reg was so pissed that he _threw a knife _into the guard's lower back. Apparently it lodged itself in there good and caused a lot of damage for the guard, so much so that he got kicked out of the Callousen, because he could no longer do his job, and got sent to the League."

"Why to the League?" I asked, and he shrugged. That was the end of that conversation.

Combat training the next day was similar. Knife throwing was a little more productive; I actually hit the target. Then when we were done, we lined up next to the fighting mat. The commanders explained that we would fight each other for an allotted time, or until one of the two gets knocked out. The thought was a bit nerve-wracking, but I couldn't let these things start bothering me now. Not when I've come so far. At least, it feels like I've come far.

I tried not to think about it.

The first two fighters were randomly chosen. They looked evenly matched; same height and weight, and probably the same age. They awkwardly stood there looking at each other. Days reminded them the proper way to fight, but they weren't doing anything. Commander Chase swore, and then yelled at them to fight. One of the recruits got startled and threw a punch; hitting the other in the shoulder. He returned a punch to the jaw, and we watched them awkwardly punch each other until time ran out.

Chase was so angry at their 'pitiful fighting attempt' that he said: "Let me show you pansies something." And then punched one of the recruits so hard in the face he fell to the ground. The other recruit looked terrified, and when Chase went to punch him, he quickly covered his face. "_Coward! _How do you expect to serve Champion Lea if you're a _coward!" _

The recruit threw a hesitant punch out of anger, but Chase grabbed his fist and twisted his arm. The recruit let out a cry of pain and kicked the commander as hard as he could. It only angered Chase more, and he threw the recruit to the ground and kicked him himself. "That's how you fight." Chase turned and left the combat room in a rush, leaving Days and Carsen to get the recruits to their feet. They chose the next two, who looked just as hesitant and awkward, and then continued picking pairs until finally…It was my turn.

Owen and Seth had already gone; Seth was against a Fyn, who tried to put up a fight and was pretty feisty, but Seth actually ended up throwing him to the ground. I could tell he was proud of himself, and in-between gasps of breath; he was grinning. Owen wasn't as lucky, he was more evenly matched and was the one of the ground. But me, I was against a Tool Bench. He wasn't taller than me, but his arms were bulky and mine, well, weren't. He took the first swing, and I dodged. Then I went for his neck, but he slapped my arm away and punched me in the chest. A large breath escaped my lips and I stumbled back, and he punched me again. I punched him in the shoulder, trying to think of him as a punching bag, but he punched me even harder in the face; right on my left cheek.

It had already felt like forever, but I knew I wasn't near finishing yet. Tool Bench acted as if he was surprised by his own punch, and he stood there, waiting for something to happen. I took the opportunity by going to his neck again, where he flinched away—so I kicked him in the shin, and he let out a surprised cry. I punched him—in the neck, finally—and he retaliated with a jab to my stomach. I doubled-over, and he pushed me to the ground. He kicked me hard in my side, and I tried to grab his foot. What I would do with his foot if I caught it I didn't know; but it was my strategy.

"Time's up," Carsen yelled, and got up on the matt. "Volkner?"

"Yeah?" My voice was hoarse. He didn't say anything else; just pulled me to my feet. Just when I had gotten over being sore, all of it came back in a rush as I stood. My head pounded, and I got dizzy and tripped off the matt.

When I hit the floor I contemplated staying there, but I quickly opened my eyes and got on my feet. Owen rushed over to me and offered his arm, but I shook my head. I couldn't start showing weakness. Not now; so I didn't.

That night, we all sat at our usual table for dinner. There was chit-chat among the group about nothing in particular as we ate our cheesy potatoes and burgers. Most of the recruits had already finished eating and left, but we were taking our time and just sitting there. The commanders, who were doing the same thing, didn't care so we continued.

Suddenly Commander Reg stormed into the dining hall dragging a Tool Bench by his ear behind him; his face as red as Miss Karp's that day I told her that her perfume was distracting me because it smelled of baby barf and rotting corpse.

Turns out she wasn't wearing perfume.

However, Commander Reg's angry red face was very different from Birdbrains. He was bald, and his face looked tiny compared to his giant, shiny head. "Mister Lawrence was up in his dorm causing mischief," Reg announced. The other commanders didn't respond, which angered Reg even more. "Someone said he wanted to _prank _me."

"I wasn't going to—"

"_Shut up!" _Reg let go of the kid's ear and slapped him. "Stupid Newbie, you _do not _talk to your commander like that. You will be punished! _Tolerance is over!" _He grabbed the recruits arm and pulled him towards an empty table. "Stand on the table!" The Tool Bench obeyed. Commander Reg reached into his pocket and pulled out something. "Take this," again, he obeyed. By this time a lot of the recruits who had left the dining hall returned; including a few Officials, who were usually MIA from the compound or only seen outside guarding the fence. "Admit what you've done to these people, then mark your palm."

"What?! You—" He started, but Reg interrupted him by grunting.

"I said do it!"

The recruit, Lawrence, flipped open what appeared to be a pocket knife. He hesitantly looked towards the table of fellow commanders. I followed his gaze; some of them looked amused, and the rest looked distant and unfazed. No one was going to stop him.

Lawrence's Adams apple bobbed, and then he spoke: "I…I was going to prank Commander Reg by stealing all of his man-panties from his room and hanging them here in the dining hall," a smirk crossed his face when a few recruits and Officials started to laugh.

"Oh no," I muttered. Owen looked at me and started to say something, but it had already happened. Reg leapt onto the table and grabbed the knife himself.

"You think this is a joke, do you? Are you laughing now?" He pressed the pocket knife into Lawrence's palm, and you could tell he was struggling not to make a sound of pain. "I hate pranks!" He returned the knife to his pocket and jumped off of the table. "You people remember that!" He screamed, and left Lawrence standing on the table, clutching his hand which had filled with blood.

Seth scrambled out of his seat and ran to the kitchen; quickly returning with paper towels and a bag filled with ice. I got up, too, and approached Lawrence and Seth.

"So that sucked." I said dryly.

"No kidding," Lawrence replied, then chuckled. "I don't even know how I was going to get away with stealing and hanging his underwear."

"But it was a genius idea…You know, I bet I could still make that happen." I smirked, but his smile faded away.

"No, no…I would just get blamed and punished again. Even if he knew it wasn't me, I was the brains who gave you the idea." He looked at his hand and removed the ice. A red slip cut across his palm. "It doesn't even hurt, but…"

"It still sucks, I get it." I sat beside him at the table. "We'll get him back someday. Deal?"

Lawrence slightly smiled. "Deal."

"And if you ever need a _hand…_" I motioned to his injured, bleeding hand and grinned. He looked unamused. "Too soon?"

"Just a little, Promising Guy."

Seth erupted in laughter when I made a face of bafflement. "What?! You too?! You're not even on our side of the compound!"

He laughed, "That's what everyone here calls you. Trust me, I don't understand it either." He grinned.

"Firstly, _ouch; _secondly, don't call me that."

"At least it's not Unpromising Guy!" Someone from our table yelled.

"Shut up Owen!" I yelled back. Seth was still dying of laughter, and a little from lack of air, and Lawrence announced that he was going to go back to his dorm room. "Stay out of mischief, you man-panty thief." He paused and gave me a look, but then continued out of the room. The other recruits began to leave as well, and Seth and I went up to our dorm.

The dorm was nearly empty; everyone else was hanging out in the training room. Only a few recruits were lying in their bed, possibly sleeping. I climbed into my bunk; although it was smaller than my bed back home, it was surprisingly comfortable and I felt a sense of privacy in the top bunk.

Seth had moved into the bottom bunk of mine; sleeping under Davon, the worst snorer in our dorm room, wasn't working out too well for him. "Can you believe tomorrow is only Day Five?" Seth asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"No, actually. It feels like it's been years since I've been here."

"I know. I don't even remember what five days in the outside world felt like. Were five days always this long, or is time somehow altered here?"

"Time's definitely altered. That's the only obvious answer."

Seth paused. "I knew it!"

Chuckling, I rolled over on my side. Moments later I heard the slight sound of Seth's snoring. Seth's snoring wasn't exactly a snore, but instead a rhythmic gasp for air. That kid could fall asleep instantaneously. I can't say much, though; because moments after that, I was sleeping too.

* * *

The next morning came too fast. Like most mornings, I guess. When I woke up I felt like I had gotten plenty of sleep, but like I hadn't slept for long. Like always I didn't dream; I never did. Never had nightmares either, it never happened. Rayne was convinced I was insane; never dreaming. She would sometimes come over early in the morning and sit on my bed, telling me her newest dream in vivid detail.

_"And you didn't dream at all?!" _She would say in astonishment.

_"Afraid not; maybe if you didn't give me a concussion when I was a young lad I would dream." _And then she would roll her eyes and murmur Boulder Brain before pulling out her sketchpad to show me what she was up until midnight sketching the night before.

But that was all once upon a time now, and I was done thinking about it.

Breakfast ended, and we were all taken outside for morning running. It was brutal, and we all had to do multiple sprints and suicides. Seth struggled, to say the least. When we were brought back into the training room for weightlifting and obstacle courses, I was pleased when my group was sent to an obstacle course. We all could get through it easily and fast at this point. This was one of the things that even the commanders couldn't say we didn't improve on. We all felt a sense of accomplishment going through the obstacles now that we could do it swiftly and quickly; I know I did.

Lifting and working out was a bit different. I could slightly feel my improvement, and Commander Days could too; I could tell when he gave me heavier weights. I struggled at first, but I made it work.

While heaving myself up the rope, the front door of the compound opened.

Cigar in-hand, weird smile planted on his face, suit as neat as the first time I saw him; Jeck waltzed in. I froze on the rope, everything stopped in place.

Memories of standing in the marketplace, being spoken to by this intimidating man; not knowing that soon, my entire life would change. I thought that I would just go back home, and continue life the way I always had, but that's not what happened at all. That man led me into a brand new life. Would I ever see my old life again?

No, I would never see it again. And he knew that.

Quickly I climbed back down the rope. Suddenly I urged to speak to him; speak to the man that—essentially—changed my life forever. What would I say to him? I didn't know, but that wasn't one of my worries.

"Volkner." Carsen said my harshly, and I stopped. I had only gotten a few feet away, not anywhere near Jeck. "What are you doing?" Carsen came up behind me.

Turning around, I faced my commander respectively. "I was just going to talk to Jeck."

His eyebrows tightened. "About what?"

Shrugging, I said: "I really don't know, Sir…But I…"

"Well, he's busy." He nodded behind me, and I turned around to see another man enter the compound. He had light hair and beady eyes; he was much shorter and smaller than Jeck, and seeing the two of them stand side-by-side was somewhat hilarious.

"Who is he?"

"Champion Lea's advisor Maroon, here to scope the recruits for Lea most likely." Carsen clamped his hand on my shoulder. "Best get back to the weights. Jeck will be here for the rest of the day."

Nodding, I did as I was told. Although Commander Carsen didn't scare me, I didn't question the fact that if he was pushed, there would be no difference between him and Reg. That was seemingly commander mentality, or so I was led to believe; to not be afraid to punish wrongdoings, and to be harsh when doing such. Carsen could get harsh, I think, and I didn't want to see that.

Jeck and Maroon walked around the training room; sometimes stopping to talk to commanders. Everything I did I felt like I was being observed, and I felt rigid while doing these things. Usually when I was training, my mindset would be to focus and get it done. I would be right on track and not think about much, but not today; I was so off that track. My mind was racing, and I couldn't even tell you why.

Maybe it was the thought that I was being _scoped _for Champion Lea. It was too easy to forget that I was here for some purpose. I was training to become an Official Guard of Lea. How could I keep forgetting that? This training process would someday be over and I'll be expected to be a guard. What that meant exactly I wasn't sure of, but I would learn, and I would do it.

All of a sudden, it seemed essential for me to excel here; and I had the realization that I had no idea how to do that. Was I failing? Succeeding? How would I know?

My worries followed me to lunch, where I sat at my table with my roommates in silence. No one questioned me; I wasn't very talkative here anyways. I kept glancing at where Jeck and Maroon sat; with the Commanders, who were joking and laughing.

Downstairs in the combat room, I didn't feel better. My uneasiness and sudden uncomfortableness didn't leave. Why I felt so out of place throwing knives and throwing punches at a punching bag suddenly, I didn't quite understand. It's like I was in quicksand, and every inch I dropped the more anxious and desperate I became.

And then it was fighting time. We stood around and watched the first few pairs fight. Some of the recruits were becoming more comfortable with fighting, while others were still stiff while attempting to fight. But I couldn't do it. The thought of fighting today seemed implausible. I was much too distracted. Looking over at Jeck, who stood away from Maroon, I contemplated going over there. I had this _urge _to go speak to him; ask him for advice; _anything. _

My palms started to sweat, my anxiousness was escalating and I bit my lip—hard. The commanders around me were either speaking to Maroon or too focused on the fighting to notice me step towards Jeck. He gave me a look that I can't explain, one that displayed confusion and annoyance and something else entirely. But I continued; I approached him.

Of course I didn't say anything at first, leading to him speaking: "And, who are you?"

For some reason, I didn't believe that he didn't remember me, so I ignored his first comment. "Jeck…" I spoke, my voice clear and strong, "you have to help me." The words spilled from my mouth, I didn't think about them before saying them.

He sighed, like he didn't have time for this. "With what?"

"_Everything!" _I whispered; my strong voice quickly turning into pure desperation. "I feel like I'm hanging on by a thread, here…Like my whole life could be over within seconds. I feel like I'm constantly on a tightrope. Usually I can ignore it like it doesn't matter; like I was born to be here, and that I'm going to make it through and be fine…But at the same time, in the back of my head, I feel…Dead."

Something crossed his face. His eyebrows drew together, and his eyes looked sympathetic. "Volkner," he let out a jagged breath and his facial expression returned to its annoyed look, "you'll be _fine. _You're _doing _fine." He placed a firm hand on my shoulder, a gesture that was all-too common in the guard world. "Stop this. Listen, just get through the rest of this week. Today's only Day Five. Day Eight is when they start Pokémon training, hear me?" I nodded, although I didn't understand his point. He must have gathered that when he continued: "You'll excel. You'll impress your commanders, insuring your safety."

"Safety from what?"

"Termination, mostly. Not all of you recruits are Callousen material. The commanders already have their Un-favored Newbies. You're not one of them."

"What happens if you're terminated? Just go back home?" The idea didn't sound horrible at first thought, but after only a few seconds—it sounded dreadful.

He shook his head, and slightly chuckled. "You wish." He paused. "Just keep laying low. You'll know in time where you stand, and then you'll improve. Soon you'll be working for Lea, Kid."

Relief spread through me, and I breathed again. I didn't understand why this brought me so much comfort, but it did comfort me. Jeck knows what he's talking about, I should trust his word. "I knew you knew who I was." I smirked, and he rolled his eyes.

"Don't get cocky on me now. I get enough of that from Officials, and you're just a Newbie, Volkner." Behind me I heard Commander Chase announce that they had ran out of time for fighting; that we needed to go back upstairs for more workouts. I walked back to the group, without any form of goodbye to or from Jeck, and followed them to the training room.

Although I felt relieved since talking to Jeck, I still felt hesitant and uneasy. Knowingly, I couldn't talk to Owen or Seth or anyone else about it; that would show too much weakness. I already regretted speaking to Jeck for that same reason, but something about him seemed safe.

How could I feel that way about the person who lured me from my home, and introduced me to this messed up—I knew I didn't even scratch the surface of _messed up_—life?

Behind his rough exterior was a sympathetic man, I was convinced by the quick glances of pity in his eyes. He put up a front, but he wasn't as bad as he came across. Convincing, conniving and conning; yeah, but he was sympathetic enough to give me honest advice. So I found him safe, somehow. And hearing his advice, and that he was confident in me getting through The Shadows, was comforting.

Oh, what have I become?

* * *

**Authors Note:** I do not condone Pokemon meat eating, by the way. Haha.

All feedback about this chapter is greatly encouraged, obviously I tried to cover a lot of time; how did you like that?

Anywho, I hope you all are still enjoying this story and having a great life. Thanks for taking the time to read, it's appreciated and loved. YOU'RE APPRECIATED AND LOVED.

*Also: When going to upload this chapter, I almost uploaded it to Snake Eyes. Wouldn't THAT be hilarious. #GetItTogetherPureGamer


	9. Knives

_Chapter Eight: Knives_

_Welcome to the Shadows_

It was Day Seven. The past two days blended together; breakfast, training, lunch, combat training, dinner, more training, then sleep. Jeck and Maroon were gone; they left the night of Day Five. Owen, Seth and I were pretty exhausted from everything. The adrenaline of the first few days ebbed, and we were faced with being ridiculously sore and tired. Seth and Owen, of course, had been in The Shadows longer than I had, only by about a week, but here, where time was altered, it made all the difference. Seth made comments about not even remembering what his sister looked like, not remembering the layout of his house, and other depressing things. Owen added his own depression, but I stayed out of it. I didn't want to think about my sisters, or the layout of my house, or anything back home. I needed to focus on the here and now.

We were eating lunch. My roommates were chatting amongst themselves as usual. Seth was winded from the first bit of training; _lots _of running. His breathing problems had gotten a lot better, he said, but sometimes there was nothing he could do to control it. So he was quiet sitting beside me, and I was thankful. His depressed attitude was not wanted by me at that time.

One of my roommates was talking to Owen across from Seth and me, he said: "Have you noticed the difference in the commanders today?"

"What do you mean?" Owen replied. I became interested, because honestly I hadn't noticed anything difference in them.

"The commanders have barely been talking. They're all…Dazed, or something. Out of it."

Owen thought for a moment, and looked towards the commanders table. I looked too, and saw that they were all sitting and eating, without saying a word to each other or looking at any of the recruits' tables. "You're right!" Owen declared. "I wonder why?"

The recruit shrugged, "I don't know, but something's bothering them, and it makes me a little uncomfortable."

"Maybe it has something to do with the competition between the sides of the compound?" I spoke up, making my two roommates look at me.

"It's possible, but…" Owen shrugged, "I doubt they would be intimidated about something like _that. _I mean, that's hardly their problem, it's ours. Right?" I shrugged, and didn't reply. Owen and the recruit started speaking again, about nothing important, and I focused on my plate; Magikarp, leftovers from last night. Gross stuff, fish; they smelled bad and tasted equally as bad. Of course for me the taste could be tainted forever, because I remember being a young lad in Shore, walking through the marketplace with my friends.

We walked passed the section of the marketplace that sold meat. Carcasses hung from the ceiling of some of the booths, and strips of meat were on display everywhere. Since it was Sunyshore, there were lots of fish being sold. One of my friends thought it would be funny to buy Magikarp meat to pull pranks on some of the other kids. I wasn't involved, but he bought it. Later, after an odd series of events, the giant piece of uncooked, dead Water Type landed on my head, covering my small child body like a cloak.

After three long showers, I swore I still smelled like the insides of a Magikarp.

Choking back vomit, I pushed the rest of my plate away along with that memory.

A gasp went through the group of recruits, and I looked around at them confusedly. All I had done was push my plate away, there was no need for such a gasp. Then I followed their gaze. A man, in the midst of a group of commanders, had entered the dining hall. I had never seen him in person, and it took me a minute to recognize him, but it was Champion Lea.

We were speechless as we stared at him. He was speaking quietly to Commander Chase, Carsen, Hayden and Days. Whispers started at my table. "He has the power to sentence any one of us to death, right here, right now!" Owen leaned across the table to whisper to me. I nodded, hesitantly, back. "I guess we know why the commanders were acting weird." He added, and I nodded again.

Lea walked out with a few commanders, and then we were ushered down to the combat room and separated into our groups like normal. My group started at the punching bags, and I tried to not think about Champion Lea being there. Then we were throwing knives. I had gotten so much better that I actually hit the target. But my throws still felt weak, and the knife felt awkward in my hand. I just tried to focus on my throws.

"You call that throwing?" A new voice spoke up. My eyes bugged from my head, and I looked towards Lea. He wasn't looking at me, thankfully, but he started walking towards my group.

He moved forward. Slowly he stepped; lightly, yet with confidence. His facial expression was hard to read. His eyes were focused—his eyebrows ever-so slightly pinched downward. His lips were curled and amused; a face of arrogance, maybe, but doubtfully so.

We stood rigid and still, watching this man stride towards the knives. Everyone eyed him down, not daring to blink or look away. This made me remember when I was first around guards in the marketplace; being in the presence of authority was odd, and it made me feel uncomfortable. Since then, of course, being around guards or commanders wasn't as intimidating; but this was a different story. Even the commanders were different around him. He was the highest in authority. He had the most power of anyone in Sinnoh. He had enough power to sentence anyone here to death, as Owen had said. It was weird to look at someone that could command this entire room to do anything—we all worked for him, he was our boss—yet I couldn't tear my eyes away from him.

The only thing you could hear was his boots hitting the floor. With each step the ring of the rubber shoe bottoms meeting the stone got louder and louder. He approached the table that held all of the knives. He picked one up, it was seemingly handle-heavy, and stroked his finger lightly against the sharp blade. As he did this, he examined the blade thoughtfully. He put it down and picked up a blade-heavy knife, one of the ones we use in practice. He stepped toward the white line we were all lined up at. We took a few steps back in unison, giving him space.

He stood, facing the target, and then turned; so his weak side, left, was facing it. He brought the knife out—swiftly, quickly—and swung his arm like he was throwing a Pokéball. Then he let go of the knife. It shot like a bullet toward the target, and then hit perfectly in the center. The target wavered because of the impact, and he stood up straight and returned to the knives.

"That's how you do it," he announced; and everyone in the room stopped breathing. Even though it wasn't the first time he had spoken, we were all a little unnerved. He turned back and approached us again, grinning, and holding a larger knife. "You recruits have a horrible grip on the knives. You hold it like this," he demonstrated, "index, middle and ring fingers belong on the dead center on the handle, or blade. Your little finger can just barely brush it. Then," he took another step back and got into throwing position, "you bring it across, throwing all your weight behind the knife, and, simply, just let it go." He did just that. It hit dead center of the next target. He returned to grab another knife. This time he held it by the blade, just as he said, and he looked at the crowd of newbies. He flashed another smile, and then flicked it effortlessly towards a target—without looking. Dead center, again. Some commanders and recruits made noises of excitement, and Lea nodded. "Now that you all know how to do it correctly, my work here is done."

And with that, he left.

* * *

_ "You'll excel. You'll impress your commanders, insuring your safety." _

_ "Safety from what?" _

_ "Termination, mostly. Not all of you recruits are Callousen material. The commanders already have their Un-favored Newbies. You're not one of them." _

_ "What happens if you're terminated? Just go back home?" The idea didn't sound horrible at first thought, but after only a few seconds—it sounded dreadful. _

_ He shook his head, and slightly chuckled. "You wish." _

Today was the day: Pokémon training. After combat training we gathered outside around the battlefield; the sky looking overcast, as usual, and a chilling breeze whipping by. My body still wasn't used to the cold weather of Veilstone. Compared to Sunyshore, Veilstone felt like Snowpoint.

Maroon had returned on this day to watch us battle. He made me way less nervous now that Lea had visited. Yesterday, after he had come and gone, everyone was talking about him. Either about how intimidating he was, awesome he was, or some mixture of both…He was the talk among the recruits. Even some Officials had joined us for dinner, asking us about him once they heard he visited.

Apparently the head leader of all of Sinnoh was a big deal, or something.

"You all have been given your own Staravia or Luxio. You all know how to battle. If you don't, figure it out. First pair, go!"

The first pair was a Staravia and Luxio. The Luxio owner was a Fyn, and possibly my classmate, who knew what he was doing. He creamed the Staravia, and the Staravia owner was eliminated from the tournament.

The next pair was a little more awkward. They hesitantly called off basic commands; it was obvious they weren't familiar with their given Pokémon. The Pokémon would hardly obey, and it wasn't the most enjoyable thing to watch. Commander Reg would bark at the pair, telling them to step it up and how awful they were doing. Once they were done, the loser, the Luxio, got pulled off to the side and yelled at by Reg. He called on the next pair and yelled: "The person from my group, don't lose this time!"

The person from his group did in fact win, and that calmed him down a bit. We watched more pair's battle; and then it was my turn, and Pikachu and I were up against Owen and his Staravia.

We stood on opposite ends of the battlefield, our commanders watching us carefully. He called out his Staravia, who looked frazzled and confused. And I called out Pikachu. It was the first time I had seen him in eight days, and he was excited. Electricity buzzed off of him and he bounced around excitedly. I grinned; not realizing how much I had missed the little guy. Over the years we had bonded, and he was _my _Pikachu. They also gave me a Luxio, but told me I could only use one of the two in this tournament. Of course I chose Pika.

Owen was excited and called off the first command: "Staravia, Tackle!"

The bird leapt up and flew towards my Pokémon. Pikachu prepared himself quickly. "Quick Attack," I yelled, and Pikachu avoided the Tackle and pounced on the bird inflight; showcasing his amazing speed. Staravia hit the ground hard, and let out a squealed caw. He brought his wing out and flung Pikachu off of himself like a spring, then took to the air again.

"Tackle, again!" Owen's face was less excited, and more focused. I bit my lip, my excitement rising myself, and I grinned.

_ Obviously, I have the advantage; but I need to beat him in a way that will make the commanders remember. _

Staravia tackled Pika before I could command otherwise. He pinned him to the ground with his wings. "Thunder Shock!" Electricity rippled across Pikachu's skin, making the opponent shrink back and roll over on the dirt battlefield—paralyzed. Pikachu jumped up and got into stance, staring down the rival. He growled, and electricity sparked from his red cheeks. "Electro Ball." I grinned, and flicked my eyes up at Owen. He just shook his head at me and smirked. He already knew he was defeated.

Pikachu growled hard; a rumbly, aggressive noise deep in his chest as a ball of sparky voltage formed in front of his face. It grew large quickly, and then shot forward; practically encasing the unmoving foe. Staravia squawked, and started to move—somehow coming out of his paralysis. "Quick Attack," I hurriedly called. Pikachu jumped into action, and the Staravia fell almost lifelessly to the ground. Commander Days blew his whistle. "Staravia is done-for, Volkner and Pikachu will progress."

For the first time that day, the recruits around me who stood and watched all of the battles actually applauded. They cheered excitedly, like the battle had captured their attention. Owen grinned and clapped, and I joined along.

We returned our Pokémon, and handed them to the commanders; where they would heal them for us. We joined Seth in the crowd, and sat in the damp grass. The next battle started, and Owen leaned over to me. "So you and that Pikachu…Obviously have a lot of practice."

Chuckling I replied: "Kind of. I've had him for a really long time. Before I had graduated trainer school I kept him in this abandoned shack in the woods near Shore..." Wow, it was weird talking about home, "and we sort of bonded over the years. I would bring him food every day. Sometimes I would sneak out and spend the night in the shack. It was pretty great."

"So you and Pikachu would get all snuggly, how adorable." Seth mumbled, and then laughed.

"That sounds dangerous." Owen stated, and Seth and I gave him a look. "Well think about it! He stores electricity inside his body _while he sleeps_! Weren't you ever afraid of being accidentally electrocuted?!"

Seth laughed, but I got serious. "Well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't wake up being fried once or twice, actually."

"See!" Owen said.

"Nothing serious, but let's just say I made sure he knew how to control his drowsy zapping real quick."

Owen continued stating Pikachu facts, and I partially zoned out and watched the rest of the battles.

The tournament was more important than we thought.

After the first day of battling, Lawrence came to Seth and I while we were standing in the training room. He said that Commander Reg was so fumed about so many people from his group not being able to win while battling, that he woke all of the recruits on his side of the compound up at midnight by hysterically screaming at them, and took them outside for extra training.

And since it was night and most of them were inexperienced as it was, they kept making mistakes—ending in most of them being violently punished.

"During one of his outburst," Lawrence had said; in a calm, almost hesitant tone, "he said something about a competition against the sides of the compound…And if our side fails in this battling tournament, there will be serious consequences…He even said that most of us probably won't even _get out of here_ if we don't win…And everyone in our room is really worked up about it."

He took a large breath, and explained that he wanted to let us know in case something ridiculous happens. "They've been talking about trying to sabotage your side of the compound somehow. Maybe taking all of your Pokémon and weakening them beforehand. But they'll never be able to do it successfully, don't worry. But…This _"tournament" _is more important than we thought."

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter was named "Knives" as a nod towards Snake Eyes chapter "Instincts and Knives." Fun fact.

Bear with me, things are going to get interesting!

I'm so pleased that I'm getting such positive feedback. It seriously is the best. I know everyone is busy with their lives, so thank you for reading and reviewing, you guys. Keep up the good work!


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